Two Brothers
by Mudsaur
Summary: We don't speak the language. We can't read the words. The menu is a troll. Half the time something wants to kill us and the other half is us trying to kill it. In short: Sword Art Online is the worst thing ever. OC Duo First-Person Narrative
1. The First Day I

Title: Two Brothers

Summary: We don't speak the language. We can't read the words. The menu is a troll. Half the time something wants to kill us and the other half is us trying to kill it. In short: Sword Art Online is the worst thing ever. OC Duo First-Person Narrative

 **Author's Note: Okay, so, as some might be aware, I am a fan of worldbuilding.**

 **I enjoy stories with good foundations for an exciting story-place, like Highschool DxD. I like to consider the works of Reki Kawahara to be of a similar degree of Sub-Creation. However, like DxD, I do find his story to lack the necessary temperament and refinement I would usually expect from a solid piece of _Paracosm_ (fancy word for worldbuilding). And like with the Beast of Gremory, this is my attempt at showing just how powerful, wonderful and fantastical the world that is inhabited can be.**

/

 **START 'THE FIRST DAY'**

 **October 28, 2022**

/

Curfew was an hour ago. Jon's gonna kill me.

Well, okay, I don't mean that literally. Obviously. Just semi-literally. In the way that I have no doubt that I am going to receive my brother's 'you know better' speech by the end of this. A lecture I've grown more than used to in the last six months and could almost recite word for word. Still wasn't looking forward to it.

Now, who knows? Maybe I'm just a glutton for punishment. It's as good a reason as any for why I'm doing this. 'Cause even with knowing the shit I'm going get at home, some part of me thought going out tonight sounded fun. So fun, I forgot to leave a note saying I'd be out late. Which, hindsight twenty-twenty, goes to show the levels of stupidity a teenager is willing to go for shits and giggles.

So now, I'm outside. It's cold, damp and my socks are soaked with puddle water so my toes feel mildly frostbitten. And if that doesn't sound like the best fun ever, there's still the thought in the back of my head that's telling me that my brother's probably looking for me; calling my cell a dozen times, but curse my luck, the battery has zilch charge.

Breaking curfew, dead cell phone, and I didn't even leave a note to say where I am – all these things together make it pretty obvious that I should just go home and hope my good judgement will pacify Jon, even a little. Because the fact is, I don't even need to be out here.

At all.

I could be home; watching TV, sleeping, doing anything that doesn't revolve around trekking through mud and dirt. But when Danny knocks on your front door with six upperclassmen beside him, carrying a few cartons full of eggs and a serious grudge against a teacher, you feel a strong compellence to not say no to whatever he asks. Plus, by proxy of being one of the few who could stomach his notorious stench (think hot sauce mixed with wet dog) and might even call him a passively enjoyable acquaintance on the best of days, I was definitely one of the guys Danny wanted for his Spanish teacher revenge scheme.

And as befitting Danny's 'overly complicated nature,' his plan reflected his character.

First: find teacher's car.

Second: practice throwing game.

It was simple. Real simple. Like Danny.

And now I've been shanghaied. Which means my day is now turning into a real crapfest.

Which sucks all kinds of ass. Because school was actually pretty awesome.

Talked to Jenny – fuckin' A. Even got her to laugh at one of my bad jokes. Aced my calc test (okay, B-plus'd, but that's acing for me). And Dad gave me a call.

So yeah; today was sweet. At school, of all things.

And it's Friday. Which means weekend. Which means football (American, the good kind), video games (I'm an FPS king), and no homework until I need to binge it on Sunday (I'm thinking 11 PM is a good hour to start). And all that's likely about to go down the drain because I figured egging a teacher's car sounded like a rite of passage.

Danny said it would be fun. Said it would be a riot. To me, he might as well have said, 'hey, let's backflip off a bridge into the nearby creek and hope we don't smash our heads on the rocks below!'

And no, that's not an exaggeration. Couple days from now, it's gonna be Halloween. Police policy is that officers have to memorize the residential areas before major holidays. Requiring a number of recorded hours of patrol beforehand. And doing it at midnight when the roads were clear was the preferred time.

How do I know this? Jon's a cop. A good one, if I'm allowed to be biased. By having a cop for a brother, I kinda picked up on the idea that performing an act of vandalism right now is borderline mental.

If there was ever a time to commit an act of vandalism, now would NOT be ideal.

But enough with that other shit. Right now, let's get to the good stuff.

Like Danny's throwing me to the mud, face first.

/

 **TB – E**

/

"Duck!"

I would have probably followed what Danny said even without the fingers pressing into the back of my neck, pushing me down beside him. Sweaty, chicken finger sized digits which felt more like they were trying to crush my neck than drive me to the ground.

Still, I managed to get my mouth shut before my nose dipped into the mud. Or, at least, I hope it was mud. Smelled bad, regardless.

Anyway, the patrol car passed without somehow noticing the eight of us.

"Okay, clear!"

Look at Danny, trying to be all squad commander. I would have almost laughed at how hard he was trying to be sneaky with his six-and-a-half-foot frame and almost three-hundred pounds of fat if I weren't trying to wipe the (hopefully) mud from my mouth.

"Come on, E! Up and at 'em."

New voice. Not Danny.

Jared, another upperclassman. Senior.

Obnoxious. Loud. Batshit crazy.

Looking at him, there's not a lot to say. He's short, lacking in much resembling hair, and if he claimed to have eaten anything in the last month, I'd call bullshit. If Danny had an opposite in the looks department, it was Jared.

I don't try to think why Jared looks like he does. I have my suspicions, but I keep them to myself. Like Danny, he has a temper, and accusing him of any sort of flaw was an easy way to get his squirrely-ass all over you.

Beware. He's fond of the sucker punch.

"Aww, E's got a little something on his lips! It's all gooey and dark and – OH, THAT'S SICK! E TOOK A MOUTHFUL OF-"

Yeah, I'm gonna stop it there.

First off, I don't think it's _that_. Pretty sure. Second, to avoid confusion, my name's not 'E.' That's just Jared being Jared; crappy at remembering anything resembling a noun or putting a face to it. And having known him for the last eight months, I'm just too tired to remind him. Mostly, I consider it a small miracle he even remembered the first letter; in the first five months, I was C, J, W, Y, and Q.

And now I'm 'E.'

But don't call me E.

My name is Ethan. Ethan Miller.

Simple, easy to remember. Something I don't think needed a nickname. Not once in my sixteen years did I ever think my name was a difficult one. Jared may look opposite from Danny, but that's where the differences end. Those two don't have a pair of brain cells to share between themselves.

But I won't tell them that. I like having teeth.

"Piss off," I say after I got most of the wet something off my face, "I've seen what you've put in your mouth. This is nothin'."

Jared laughed – high and irritating. "I ain't ever put _that_ in my mouth, asswipe!" The guys around laugh. Either at the prospect of what I might have just taken to the mouth or because our very own Seth Brundle didn't argue my point.

"Would you all shut your assholes?" Danny spoke up. "Jared, are we close or what?"

Jared needed a second to think on what Danny was asking. "Oh! Yeah yeah! Yes. Just, uh…" He took a second then pointed. "There! That's his place!"

I look to where that skeleton finger of his aimed. Across the road with lights out and no life to be seen is a nice looking two-story house. Decent paint job, nice trimmed hedges, cleanly cut grass – once upon a better time, I lived in one just like it.

And there was a car sitting on the driveway.

"Hoohoohoooo!" Danny belly laughs. "Yeah, boy!" He trots across the road, foregoing his poor attempt at stealth. His enjoyment must have been contagious to certain frequencies of stupid, 'cause Jared and a few others didn't even try and hide their giddies. The Gollum lookalike even did a little happy step and jiggle all the way over, hollering and reaping the benefits even before the deed was done.

But even as the group of upperclassmen made their way over, I stood back.

Looking between them and the car.

/

 **TB – E**

/

Okay, I may be having some doubts to this whole thing.

I mean, this is straight up property damage. That's a level of hoodlum I haven't reached yet.

Flaming bag of poop? Done. Graffiti? Cool the first time. Drink a little beer? Did it once for kicks, hated the taste after, and Jon made sure I wouldn't do it again.

But egging? I think I need to brace myself.

Yeah, I know it's not stealing, drugs, smoking or even breaking mailboxes – stuff Danny wakes up every day for – but taking this next step feels harder than it did five hours ago (had it really been that long? Time flies when you're preparing for high-vandalism).

The reason why I decided to do this was easy: I was bored and it seemed fun. A rite of passage, I guess. A way to be one of the guys in this cobbled together group of misfits.

I didn't even wonder if this was a bad idea. Didn't think of just saying 'no, I'm good.' All I saw was a bunch of my 'friends' wanting to do something crazy. Crazy and exciting. I didn't even see the negative in that.

And I'm supposed to be the smart one.

"Ethan, you get first shot!"

I cross over with a purposeful lack of hurry.

If any of the guys noticed, they didn't comment. They just made a sorta circle around me, as if I was some guest of honor. Some offered excited smiles, pats on my back, a few quiet cheers. Danny stood as the big leader of them, opening one of the cartons and tossing me an egg.

"Now, the thing you have to do," Danny spoke up, moving to wrap a log-of-an-arm around my shoulders, "is aim for just between the door handle and the window."

He's pointing to the spot, looking enthusiastic in this whole thing now that it was coming to a close.

I'm only half listening. I'm more interested in the car. It's a nice car.

"Pieces everywhere, paintjob in the crapper, and you never forget your first throw. It's always great."

I'm not much of a car guy but whoever the teacher was took some pride in his piece. Clean, maybe waxed, not a scratch or dent in the frame. Not even so much as a bird's poop stain. I'm feeling somewhat tempted to look and see if the insides matched the out, but Danny's walrus frame makes moving closer almost impossible.

"If you go a little high, no worries; we'll only bust your chops a bit."

He would, actually. He's that guy who could remember every flaw or failure a person has and won't hesitate to remind you of it in a 'friendly' way. But give him a basic math problem, and he's stumped.

An extra thick hand smacks the back of my shoulder. Encouraging, I think was Danny's intention. I nearly fell. "Give the boy some space! Give the boy some space!" Everyone took a larger than needed step back, leaving me in the center of their wider circle.

I have the limelight. I hate the limelight.

Still, I raise my hand. The egg was softer than I remember eggs usually are. More fragile, as if I give it even a slightly harder touch it would break.

It might have also been nerves.

I pull my hand back and get into what makeshift position I think little league taught me. My eyes set themselves right at the door, right where Danny said I should aim, and took a few breaths. The cold air offered nothing to help me.

"Come on…"

"What, is he broken?"

"Fucking throw it!"

More encouragement. Funny how it isn't helping.

"Come on, E! Do it! Do it! Do it!"

Oh no.

"Do it! Do it! Do it! Do it!"

Jared started a chant.

"Do it! Do it! Do it! Do it do it doitdoitDOITDOIT **DOIT**!"

Faster. Louder. Stomping feet and clapping hands mixed in with the yells. I think the element of stealth and fear of getting caught is all but forgotten here.

Was a minute to get my head ready too much to ask?

Meh, whatever. These sorts of things are easy to stop. Especially with this group of guys. Shift myself a little to loosen up and to raise my hand a little higher is all it takes to quiet them in silent anticipation.

I only gave them a brief glance. I either did what needed doing or I didn't.

Peer pressure is a hell of a thing.

Well, I'm here now. Is this a smart thing to do? No. But shit happens. At least you can't ever call me chicken.

So, go through the steps: spread legs, focus eyes, hold breath, don't drop the egg.

Don't think. Just do. Don't think. Just do. Don't think. Just-

"Hey!"

Never mind, time to think.

"What are you doing?"

/

 **TB – E**

/

My focus turns from car to road.

Across to the sidewalk, standing and looking over us as if we were about to commit straight murder, was the most decked out jogger I'd ever seen. And I'm talking full body spandex, knee brace, headlamp, iPod strapped to his arm – the works. One of those midnight-runners who got their high off jogging in the dark. Clean-trimmed hair, skinny from exercise, and I could be wrong but his legs even looked shaved and hairless from where I stood.

Usually, I laugh at these kinds of guys.

But now, I'm not feeling the funny.

"Son of a bitch!"

I don't know who said it but the articulation seems appropriate.

We break into every direction. All with the intention of getting as far away from that spot.

I go wide – for the back of the house. Away from the road and out of the street lights.

Sprint sprint sprint – there's no jogging here. Ignore the puddle, jump the fence, and cross the road on the other side. This was a residential area; bunch of houses lined up, one after the other, neat and orderly. With nice, lengthy streets between.

I skip over the next one and repeat my racing between houses. I don't know if the jogger was following or not, but it doesn't hurt to hopefully put a few more blocks between us.

I hear someone behind me. Or, maybe, a couple someones. I try to tell myself, odds were, it wasn't the jogger. Probably just a few of the guys deciding to run for the back of the house or thought I knew where I was going.

I'm not looking back to check that fact. Just decide that running a bit faster doesn't sound like a terrible idea.

But that's the thing about running in the dark. Worse, running in the dark while in a panic. You don't consider things that may be obvious. And I'm not talking about almost stepping into something unpleasant on one of the house's backyards or nearly running into one of the neighbor's fences. I'm talking about one of the more obvious things to do – things every parent teaches their kid one time or another.

And that was looking both ways before crossing the street.

 _SCRREEEEE!_

I'm about midway through before I notice the brights of the car.

The brakes are loud and echo. The wheels try everything to stop their forward motion; they almost sound like they're screaming. And yeah, I know this is a residential area – more than likely, the car wasn't even tapping above twenty-five before coming towards me. But even in the middle of the road and partly blind by the gleam of the car lights, I had to give props when props were due. I practically jumped right in front of the thing (that was a pleasant thought) and the driver managed to stop a full-on collision with my ass.

I felt a major 'sorry' and 'thanks for not making me roadkill' building up in my throat when the brights of the car went off. And for a second, I can't see too well. My eyes needed to adjust. I worried that I might have just ran in front of a cop car. I'm thinking on I'd need to turn my major thanks into a polite 'evening, officer' but the rational side of my head said the car's frame was too small, old and the color-

Oh.

Oh no.

"Who that?" Someone behind me asks, but I don't answer. Barely acknowledge the fact that I was right and some of the guys were following me. The 1972 Pinto Squire Station Wagon has my utmost attention.

And I want to be perfectly clear on this: it wasn't the paintjob of the car – a faded with the years' bumblebee yellow – which got me. The older-than-my-father model isn't too glaring either, though it did say wonders about the wagon even if you couldn't place the year. Even the oxidized hood or dented bender were nothing too eye-catching.

Nah. The way the driver's door opened – that's what had me nervous.

A man steps out and looks over to me. He's older – eight years older than I am. Tall and with a definite build that left little wonder if there was a dedicated workout routine behind it. He's wearing a nice button up, tucked into his pressed jeans, while his shoes are harder to tell in the limited light but look like they fit well with the rest of his dress. His hair's a neatly trimmed black, leaving his face open, long and sharp. And those eyes are a dark hazel; I don't need light to know this, I've stared into them more times than I could count. They might have had the same shape as my dad, but the color was all mom.

I know this guy. This is my brother, Jon. Jon Miller.

He's not happy.

"Get in," he says. Didn't need to tell me twice, I'm already aiming for the passenger side. I notice only when I have the door already open that the guys behind me are going for the back of the car.

They didn't understand the order was an exclusive one. I'm not surprised. Though, if Jon had any issues with them, he didn't say.

I just got my seat belt on before the car started to move again. Jon wasn't wasting time. The guys in the back are looking through the windows to see if they were being pursued. All the while quietly whispering and laughing, as if we pulled off some great heist or crime instead of just being caught by some random guy on the sidewalk before even the first egg was-

Huh. I was wondering what the gooey something in my hand was.

That first egg I had? It broke in my hand. Ha.

"Yeah, boy!" One of them – oh, that's Jared. "Fuckin' hell, this guy! This guy!" I catch the reflection of Jared shaking my brother's shoulder. A sign of his 'appreciation.' "I could kiss this guy, I really could!" Please. Don't. "Who do we have to thank, hmm?" He always asked for names. Never remembered them. That's Jared.

"He's my brother," I tell him. I wonder if he only just heard me, 'cause I'm currently practicing my being a shadow of the corner of the car. Quiet, invisible, not bothering a soul. The effectiveness is debatable.

"E's big B?" Jared asks loudly. No inside voice, apparently. "I didn't know you had a brother! Yo, Big B, we owe you. Like, major top favors and stuff." More hard pats to my brother's shoulder. As far as I can tell, Jon not even reacting to Jared's enthusiastic cheers. He just keeps staring forward, down the road, driving without response.

I don't see that as a good thing.

"Where do I drop you off?" Jon asks, and I hope he was talking to them. His tone is even, but I don't think of that as a positive. If anything, sometimes I prefer his harder voice. More of a clue to what's going through his head.

"Nah, nah, I got nowhere to go," the other guy, someone I didn't have a name for next to Jared, spoke up, "but hey, I gotta question: you legal?" What?

"In what way?" Jon asks the question in my head.

"I'm thirsty." Oh no. "I got cash. You buy us somethin' and I give you a little extra, hmm? Maybe?" The guy's tone suggests he thinks himself persuasive. I don't need to look to know Jon isn't taking nicely to the suggestion.

"Oooh, I could do with that!" Jared pulls up through the seats, pointing in some direction. "I know a nice place just down the way. How 'bout we split a little all around and have ourselves a-"

Oh God, this guy was just digging my grave a little deeper with every syllable. "He's a cop."

"Huh?" Jared. Ever articulate.

"Jon's with the police," I raise my voice a little higher. Please, Jared. For once, could you shut your pie hole and keep it shut? You're killing me.

"Wait, who's a cop? Yo, Big B, you know any cops? 'Cause I say fuck 'em, they're nothin' but-"

Oh, for the love of – "He's the cop!" Fuck being a shadow, I point to Jon and stare back at the two upperclassmen with my best 'shut it' look I could give. I could not have been more obvious. Not even Jared was dumb enough to not catch my meaning, pulling himself back from my brother and pretending to be non-existent in the rough cushion of the car. The other guy seemed to like what he was playing because he fell into a real quiet state right after; suddenly finding the car windows to be very interesting.

They could be taught. And all it took was the threat of the law to do it.

Wonderful.

Jon turns his head to look at me. Maybe it was because I yelled or because I wasn't playing shadow-in-the-car anymore.

He looks to me, but I can't say why.

He doesn't look angry. And, I mean, yeah, I said he doesn't do the looking angry thing. But there's usually a prelude of sorts. A sort of way in his posture that said, 'oh, I am pissed, but I have the face of a statue and I won't let you know I'm mad until later.' But I don't see it there.

If I had to say what look he's got sporting right now...I guess I'd call it worried.

Huh.

/

 **October 29, 2022**

/

Jon hasn't said anything since dropping off Beavis and Butthead. Didn't even seem to recognize I was in the car. He drove and I pretended to be fascinated by the passenger door window. It was as fun as it sounds. And I'm not even going to mention the three flights of stairs we needed to walk up; every step echoing in a way that reminded me of those old movies where the inmate is being sent down to death row. With the long, foreboding background music.

By the end of it all, Jon opening the front door was just the 'final ring' in my death sentence…

Our apartment is a small one. One bedroom, one bathroom, living room and kitchen.

I got the bedroom, Jon took the couch. Been that way for three years now.

It's warm inside. Definitely a welcome relief to be out of the chill. The room was as I left it. The television was off, the couch still had my backpack laying at the side, and the kitchen was clear and clean. I wasn't home long enough to make a mess and Jon obviously hadn't touched much before going off to look for me. The only thing that stands out is the pizza box on the small table we used for meal times, homework, or casual lounging, along with a couple liters of soda.

Jon brought dinner home. Crap.

I go for the couch, as per custom when I royally screwed the pooch. I don't say anything as Jon puts the pizza and soda in the fridge (maybe I'd have some for lunch tomorrow). I watch him from the corner of my eyes; he doesn't react to much, but even still, I expected at least a word or two out of him by now. But I got nothing.

He reaches in to pull out a couple of bottles of water and makes his way to me. Jon doesn't drink. Or, at least, I don't think he does. Never seen him so much as sip a beer. It's just water, milk, or protein shake with him. He keeps the apartment healthy, no questioning that.

Anyway, he hands me a bottle; five hours of running around parches your throat, so I'm not ungrateful. But before I even have the cap off, Jon's already has his halfway to empty. Chugging in earnest with an apparent lack of need for breath.

Maybe he's just thirsty…yeah, I'm not buying that either.

"Ethan," finally, he speaks.

"Yeah?"

"Do you want to go live with dad?"

What? "What?" I don't think I heard him right. Nope, definitely not.

Jon purses his lips, looking down at me. I didn't see it before, but he looks exhausted. "I'm asking if you want to move back with dad."

No. No, I do not. "I'm good," I tell him, "I like it here."

Maybe that was too casual. He doesn't look convinced. "Are you sure? Because I'm starting to get mixed signals." His tone hasn't risen. He wasn't being sarcastic. He was legitimately uncertain. "You leave without telling me. You're breaking curfew. You've been hanging around those dumb…those kinds of kids. And…and what is that on your hand?"

I feel as if he was going to say more, but his eyes caught the gooey yoke. "An egg." I answer. I wasn't even going to dodge the truth. We were talking about me going to live with dad. I'm not going to give him any reason to consider that train of thought further.

Jon looks confused for a second before his eyes take one hell of a serious edge.

"You were egging?"

"No, no." I shake my head. "No one threw any eggs."

"But you were going to."

He didn't voice it like a question, but I answered as if he did. "Yes." Short, good answers. Those were key.

Jon waits a second, processing that. "Ethan," he rubs his eyes with a free hand, "do you have any idea how stupid egging is?"

Oh yeah. "I do."

"Then why the…why would you think of doing that?" Okay, I got something resembling concern out of him. I'm hoping that's a good thing. "Do you know how much trouble you could get into? What if you were caught? What would I do if I found out my brother was egging someone's house?" It was a car, but he didn't need to know that. "How do you think I would feel if I had to take my brother in? Hmm? How would that look? I'm a cop, Ethan. I have to follow the law. And it…I'd…"

Jon isn't looking too good. He pulled a chair from the small table and sat down, meeting me at eye-level.

He turned quiet. Real quiet. Just staring at the floor.

"How can I help you?" He asks after a minute of thinking. "Seriously, what can I do? I'm worried for you, man. You seem to be aiming to do things you shouldn't, and I don't even want to think of what you'll do next."

Okay, barring tonight, I haven't done anything which warranted more than a slap on the wrist. "Give me some credit," I speak up, "I didn't want to. I just…felt pressured." That sounded weak even to me.

"Peer pressure. I get it, I do. But it has to stop. 'Cause I'm scared that these dimwits are going to pull you into doing something way worse – something we can't just talk over."

I wasn't the cop here. I don't know what kinds of guys Jon's taken in, but I'm sure the possibilities of what I could do were coming to mind. I want to tell him that there was no way that I would be so dumb as to go anywhere near the levels of insanity those other guys are at. And I believe it - Danny and co. are borderline inbred hicks. But I also know that people in tough, desperate situations can make bad decisions.

I told myself I wouldn't be one of those guys.

And yeah, actions speak louder than words. I get that. But right now, it's all about convincing Jon not to send me off to Dad's (gives me chills just thinking of how that will turn out).

"Look, Jon, I get it. I was dumb. I was really, really dumb." Usually, I don't go into the pity/desperate mode. But dammit, I am not going to live with dad! "But I swear, it won't happen again. I-I promise, I will do better. No more stupid things." I just had to remember how much fun it was to truck through mud, in the cold, with annoying dumbasses around me. I consider that solid motivation. "But Jon, really, I am begging you here - _don't_ send me to dad!"

/

 **TB – E**

/

Okay, I'll admit, I'm laying it on thick.

See, the thing is, Jon's a pretty good guy. Yeah, I know, that's a subjective opinion made by a biased little brother, but screw it. I've known him my whole life; I'm entitled to make that assumption without getting gripped by the dick for it.

Anyway, when I really lay it on – anxious looks, stuttering words, puppy dog eyes – I expect that my attempt will lead to some positive results and feel a bit guilty that my twisted little mind is following through with such a trick. And, yeah, not all of what I'm doing is an act. But I am legitimately serious about not going to live with Dad and I know these little things play up to my brother's kinder side.

Does doing this make me a terrible person? Maybe.

But for the record, I never claimed to be a saint.

After my swearing of non-stupidity, Jon didn't say anything for a while. He just sat there thinking. His eyes wandered from me, to the TV, to my backpack, to anything else that caught his eye. The apartment was quiet for a good, long minute; I hesitate to even breath too hard, worried that even the slightest shift in the room's flow could push him towards a decision I really don't want.

Finally, though, the silence ended. Jon lets out a long breath, rubbing his eyes before looking to the small wall clock. "It's late," he says, not even turning to look at me, "go wash your hand then head to bed. We'll talk about this later."

That wasn't the answer I wanted. Talking about things later means I have somewhere between eighteen-to-twenty-four hours to wait until whether I was told I should be packing my bags for California or not. It's as annoying as it is nerve-wracking.

Still, I wasn't going to argue. Mainly because I _am_ tired, and the yoke's starting to harden around my fingers.

I stood and made my way for the bathroom. I step quick and lightly.

But then, I pass the small table. And specifically, my eyes fall to the paper sitting on it.

An annoying sense of sentimentality takes over me. Before I was brought on for the Danny car-egging soiree, I did have some time to myself. And there on the table was my calc test. Before tonight, I planned to surprise Jon with it.

Against my better judgement, an idea forms. I can practically feel the words moving from brain to tongue. Some part of me is yelling that I shouldn't talk. That I should just follow Jon's order and put tonight behind me.

But I'm stubborn. I ignore that part of me and pick it up.

"Hey, um…"

Jon's head shifts to look at me.

"I got a B in calc."

This isn't a trick. I think. This is me actually trying to show something positive happened on this shitty day.

I raise the paper a little higher. "B-plus."

Jon did look up to focus on the paper. And for a long second, he didn't say anything.

What did I want from this? A good job? Thumbs up? I don't know. But I don't have to wait long for his response.

"Just go to bed."

"Okay."

I wash the yoke off, brush my teeth, and go to bed.

/

 **TB – E**

/

 **Author's Note:** **Alright, so we haven't touched on SAO yet. Don't worry, you're still on the right track. Persevere, if you're still interested. Also, writing this story to try and keep to a more routine update schedule.**

 **And we have been introduced to our first character, Ethan Miller.** **Designed around my brother as he was in his teens. My brother will be the first to tell you, he was a bit of an anxious prick growing up. Especially with me, my parents, and a whole mess of other problems we had.**

 **Not an easy early life for him.**

 **Also, yeah, egging doesn't seem like a serious crime. I get that. But it is vandalism and it is a crime. And with a brother who is a cop, that can be a serious offense. It's right up there with mailbox smashing or graffitiing a house - _don't do it._**

 **Next Update: 7/11/2017**


	2. The First Day II

Title: Two Brothers

Summary: We don't speak the language. We can't read the words. The menu is a troll. Half the time something wants to kill us and the other half is us trying to kill it. In short: Sword Art Online is the worst thing ever. OC Duo First-Person Narrative

\

 **TB – J**

\

 _Brrrrriiiinnnng!_

Not tonight. Please.

 _Brrrrriiiinnnng!_

Any other day, any other time, I'd be more than fine to talk. But not tonight.

 _Brrrrriiiinnnng!_

Please, just…tomorrow. Tomorrow, you'll have my full attention. But tonight, I-

 _Brrrrriiiinnnng!_

…

…

…

…

… _Brrrrriiiinnnng!_

Right. "Hello?"

" _Jonny!"_

Oh, she's hitting the octaves. "Hey, Mom."

" _Oh, how's my favorite policeman doing? Catch any bad robbers today?"_

"I'm doing fine, Mom. And no, uh, it's been good here-"

" _That's wonderful! Glad to hear it!"_ Oh, I think my ear is bleeding. _"I just wanted to call and see how my two favorite men in the whole wide world were doing?"_

"We're doing fine, Mom." Yes, I lie. "Ethan…Ethan had a good day. He, uh, he did well on his calculus and-"

" _Well of course he did! I'd expect nothing less from my little boy!"_

I should lower the volume. I really should. I just try and remember that this is my mother. The woman who gave me life and love and helped make me the man I am today. It would be rude to mute her.

" _But any who! I'm afraid I can't talk for long."_ She never could, but I don't mention that. _"I just wanted to talk about a few things for this Thanksgiving."_

Ah. I had a guess where this was going. "Okay."

" _See, sweetie, I'm afraid I've got some news: Fredrick has this new show he wants to open,"_ uh-huh, _"and he wants me as the lead!"_ Good for you. _"But you see, there's a producer dinner happening. And, well, Freddie wants me as his date!"_ Please stop talking about Fred. _"Oh, but it's also for business! Can't have his leading actress not be present, now can he?"_ I'm sure he could. _"So, honey…I'm afraid I'm going to have to be away for this Thanksgiving. I really am so sorry."_

Point of fact, I haven't seen my mother in over a year. Neither has Ethan. The most we see of her now is whenever she updates her socials. And even then, half of them are of her checking out local bars, party joints, or the New York jamboree. And whenever we do hear from her, it's always to tell us (or, rather, me – Ethan's usually asleep when she makes her monthly, midnight calls) that something's come up and plans have to change. Five minute calls to say 'sorry, important stuff happening, I'll try again later, kisses!'

It starts to wear on me.

" _Hello? Sweetie? You still there?"_

Yeah, I wanted to say as much. To tell Mom what she was doing was not what she promised. That Ethan needed to hear her voice – and it wasn't the voicemail he wanted. That we both want to see her – the pictures online don't count and the most recent photo we had with her was five years old. That she had her own life, sure, but so did we, and we haven't completely given up on her.

I've wanted to say this for a while. I _should_ say this.

" _Jonny?"_

But I won't. She's my mother.

"I'm here. And, seriously, don't worry. We get it." Man, I am tired. "I'll tell Ethan something important came up and you'll try some other time." Broken record at this point. "But hey, kudos on the new part. I know you'll do great."

" _Oh, you are just the sweetest thing! I love you, I love you, I love you!"_ She seems happy. I can't take that from her. _"Well, I won't hold you up any longer. Glad to hear everything is going great and I hope to talk with you soon,"_ probably wouldn't hear from her till Christmas, _"buh-bye."_

"Bye. Oh, and tell Nat I said hi."

" _I always do. Kisses!"_

\

 **TB – J**

\

I thought my phone ringing in the early AM was the worst of sounds.

Turns out, the silence which follows a call from Mom, telling me she won't be making another holiday, is on a whole other level of crappy. It's constant, unsettling and comes after every 'enjoyable' conversation we have. Usually with the bitter aftertaste of now trying to figure how I'm to tell Ethan that the woman who gave birth to him isn't going to see him for God knows how many more months. And for all the days it could have happened, it had to be this one - just finished a double shift, spent four hours looking for my wayward brother, and expected to return to the precinct in another four.

I guess it's just going to be one of those sleepless couple days. Which wasn't unheard of, especially in my career choice, but they're never pleasant. At the very least, I'm going to make myself a snack and relax for awhile.

A couple quick sandwiches later and I was at the table. That wasn't so bad – I liked ham and cheese, cold as they were (microwave worked fine, but I'm hungry now so whatever). But I made a mistake; see, Ethan left his test behind on the table. The one with the big, solid red 'B+' in the upper corner.

The boy never cleaned up after himself. That was a fact.

Couldn't be helped now. And it wasn't like I hadn't seen the paper already. First couple seconds after getting home, with pizza and soda and the hope for a cool night of football, I saw the sheet placed obviously for me to see.

And yeah, I admit to feeling a bit of pride. Ethan studied for this. Hard. He was improving his grade.

Well, with sandwiches done, I went to put the paper away. See, working with the police, you either get good at cleaning up around yourself or get talked at by the chief. It's never pretty.

So, in corner of the room, I keep a desk. Everything's in order, neatly tucked and clean. And beside it, a bin full of folders.

The bin was once mine. Being a cop requires more than just a good physique; I studied for hours on code and mandates. This bin was my own way of keeping things organized. But after graduation, and Ethan coming to live with me, I turned it over to him. Told him it would help keep him on top of his work.

But usually, I have to organize it for him. Again, he doesn't do clean up.

I open it. The folders are neatly kept. Alphabetized, because why not. And the first folder of the group? Calculus.

Now, yeah, I swear I went to just put to put the paper away and get back to my personal business. But my head's focused on Ethan, taking him to Dad, and his almost-egging. Annoying thoughts I couldn't shake. I would have liked to stay focused on simpler matters but the persistent, nagging part of my brain won over.

My finger sweeps through the folders, plucking a few.

Chemistry: A, A-, A, A. No complaints.

Spanish: B+, A, A, A, A. I did German and passed with a B- average.

Economics: B, A-, A, A, A, A, A, A, A, A. That teacher sure made a lot of tests.

Calculus: C-, C, B-, and now B+. Improvement, which was all I cared about.

I look them over. His old work. For myself, mostly; to get my head straight.

Shipping him off to Dad would be easier if he didn't prove he was a smart kid. If he were failing, I could put him on a plane straight for California, simple as that. But he does his work, he gets good grades, and gets better at the ones he doesn't. I didn't even have to tell him to do his work, he just did (true, he procrastinates his homework like crazy, but it still gets finished). Tonight's dumb decision aside, he usually did things smartly.

I'd like to take some credit for his grades, but I'm usually not home to help him. Plus, I B-averaged my way through school. Showing Ethan that he's smarter than me would be a blow to my pride (and Ethan would mouth me on it to no end).

But all that aside, I still don't know what to do with him.

Dad used to make this look easy. If I made a mistake or did something wrong, he'd tell me why I shouldn't do it. If I did it again, I'd get punished. The punishment fit the crime and I never did it again.

It was basic. Simple. I like to think Dad raised me right.

But I'm not a parent. Ethan's not my kid. He's my brother; a teenager, worst of all. When I try to do the same with him, I never seem to get the right result. He still goes out with those…kids. And he is doing things I really wish he wouldn't. When I caught him drinking, I hoped that would be the worst of it. He said he hated it, which was good, and I gave him dishes for a month.

I thought that would be the end of it.

But no. Now its egging. That's _very_ illegal.

Ethan would do better with Dad. Much better. The thought popped into my head somewhere after the first hour of looking. And no, I don't want Ethan to leave. The good times with him far outnumber the bad – no question about it. But if I can't keep him out of trouble, I have to consider what's best for him.

Christ, is this what it's like being a parent? It's stressful.

But a good cure for stress, I've always found, was a little TV.

" _-a pressure valve. It won't open unless there's tremendous pressure-"_

" _-How old are you? Seventeen. How long have you been-"_

" _-Barkeep, who's leg you gotta hump to get-"_

" _-You're letting them kill Martha!"_

Right. It's one in the morning. Nothing good on.

Okay, so I don't do a lot of late night entertainment. If I'm ever up at the early AMs, I'm either on call or coming home from being on call. I like sleep and sleep likes me, and I do it regularly. But right now, I don't feel like sleeping, and I need something to take my mind off.

Which means laptop.

Okay, sure, not a terrible thing. An older model, still, but it works. And I have some stuff on it – movies, music, internet. I can work with that.

Problem was, after Ethan went on last time, I don't even want to touch the thing. And, I get it, he's a growing boy. But I don't want to log in to check my emails and then find…all over…there were…girls.

Yes. Girls. I'm going to leave it at that.

Still, what else was there to do? I don't feel up for heavy thinking or grieving on my brother's choice in website perusing.

It takes a second for things to click on. The lights blip for a second, the logo appears, and then I put in the password (for confidential reasons, I won't divulge it).

And up comes the internet.

\

 **TB – J**

\

 _Comparing the NerveGear to any other hardware would be a crime in itself!_

 _Akihiko Kayaba: A Genius with Vision AND Talent_

 _SAO Soon To Take Market By Storm_

 _Positivity from BETA Testers OVERWHELMING!_

 _AINCRAD IS MY NEW LIFE!_

Wow.

Okay, first: glad I wasn't staring at a bunch of girls. Avoiding awkward is always awesome. Second: there are, by my count, thirty-eight pages up and running. I'm mostly surprised the old board was working with it all. Third: what is all this?

Oh, YouTube.

" _I'M JIZZING MY PANTS HERE!"_

Whoa, volume down. Volume way down.

" _Sword Art Online is taking the video game community by the dick and not letting go for a second!"_ Vulgar, but alright. What's…oh, SAO. Sword Art Online. Got it. I'm smart. And video game. Okay. _"For those who have been living under a rock these last few months, Sword Art Online is the newest game released for the NerveGear – you know, that thing you might have bought and used largely as a paperweight for all the crap other companies have been giving us to play with!"_ A set of images appeared of some crude looking graphics. They didn't look impressive. But also, the photos went alongside some kind of tech'd out helmet. I just assumed, based on the yelling, that this was the 'NerveGear.' Cool name.

" _Well, no need to consider it a colossal waste of dough anymore! Our lord and savior, the mad creator himself, KAYABA AKIHIKO, has come to answer our prayers!"_ A photo of a serious-looking Asian man popped up. _"This guy single-handedly developed the NerveGear software and has all but finished the updating on his first, but undoubtedly not his last, FullDive gaming experience made specifically to take us, the awesome community of the net, into a world of true visionary excellence! And it's blowing my fucking mind!"_ Another image. One with a brain literally exploding as if hit by a rocket. _"A couple months ago, a series of pre-screened gamers around Japan received their copies of what, I myself included, are calling the newest in what will be a golden age for virtual gaming platforms! These testers – Betas, or Lucky Sons of Bitches, as I call them – got to experience the game firsthand before anyone else! A lucky thousand called in, were reviewed, and got their faces online to shout 'HOLY FUCK, GIVE ME A COPY NOW! PRAISE KAYABA!'_

" _And the graphics have been phenomenal. The individual posted videos are like something from a movie – first video I saw, link below, I thought was a load of horse shite by a crappy gamer trying to pull my chain. But now, all the videos are showing this same horse shite! And its horse shite made of gold!"_ There was actually a picture of cartoon poop. It turned gold. _"The visuals. The textures. The intelligent AI. The responsiveness of the gamer movements and way things actually feel like they're supposed to feel! This is taking the lame, limp-dick 'virtual reality' of the past and turning it into absolute GARBAGE! It would be like comparing the making of the wheel to the first spacecraft to land on the moon – it's fucking awesome!"_

More pop up images, but also with some video. And, okay, I've been out of the gaming world for a while, but I thought I was looking at a cinematic still frame or pretty game trailer for a second.

This was actual gameplay?

" _And it was all made by this god among men!"_ More photos of this Kayaba guy. But now, the video edited his photo so that he had a crown, was smoking a cigarette, and money was raining down. _"Bless you, Kayaba! Bless you! You are in my books as a hero alongside Kojima and Alcorn."_

So, this man created not only a console – the helmet – but also a game? A really great looking game? A game worth some heavy praise apparently? A game which had, by all evidence, garnered Ethan's attention?

Huh.

I stopped the video because…yeah, the guy was obnoxious. But he did have a certain contagious enthusiasm to his rhetoric. I was curious.

Another of Ethan's pages. A video: _SAO: Showing Off My Slaying Skills!_

First person viewing, kinda like watching a Go-Pro. The whoever-it-was thumbed up his view then turned to someone to his right – a young woman of an interesting design and appearance that certainly couldn't have been natural – and she gave the thumbs up back. She looked ecstatic holding up a rather sharp looking knife.

Then, she pointed to the side.

A boar of bluish color stood in a meadow of grass. It didn't even see them. It just lazed about, eating.

The viewing went back to the girl, who held her knife wide. Her eyes went intense as she looked to the furred pig.

Then her knife glowed.

"Hagh!" She yelled. The girl practically flew forward, knife moving straight with a pronounced violet gleam. It happened remarkably fast; the girl lunged, the dagger went into the pig's neck (ouch), and then the attacked party screeched for a quick second.

Then it went down.

 _Psss!_

If I had any lingering sentiments that PETA would be all over this video soon, they were gone as quickly as the boar was. A sound like breaking glass cried out as the animal shined a bright white. In the next moment, shining polygons flew out from its form – as if the animal had turned to particles of light pixels.

Quite a view, I'll give it that.

The girl stood up straight. In front of her, a panel appeared. She gestured for her 'cameraman' to come check whatever she had.

I got a good view. It was like looking at a white, somewhat-transparent floating screen. And there was writing and numbers on it.

Result

Exp – 24

Cor – 30

Items – 1

Being a game made by a Japanese man, I expected whatever appeared in front of her to have writing on it in, well, _Japanese_ or something.

But nope. It's English. I can read English.

The girl gave her cameraman an excited smile, a quick high-five, and the video ended.

Next link.

\

 **TB – J**

\

Okay, this one was a bit on the technical side.

A hardware look over; a big graph with markers pointing out the doodads of the NerveGear. And there were some serious words – portable satellite-internet linkup, miniature cooling system, microwave transceivers, FullDive signal control, and so on. I get the gist of what some things did by title but scrolling over to see full detail panels, I kinda figured quickly that I'd need to google a third of the words to make sense of anything.

Still, it looked impressive. Material listing, manufacturer credits, important names of people who worked on the design for comfort and capability. I'm not an engineer, but I still know effort when I see it and this helmet received a lot.

Next page.

" _Argus, the company behind the development and creation of the NerveGear and the upcoming release of their highly-anticipated Action-Adventure Platform VRMMORPG, Sword Art Online (SAO), has revealed a new piece of information which has the community of gamers threatening to riot. Today, Akihiko Kayaba, originator of both NerveGear and SAO software, has declared that only ten-thousand copies will be made available for public purchase._

" _When asked about this decision, Kayaba commented that the choice was not an easy one to make but necessary. Quoting that, "while the expectations to hold and run some thousand Beta Testers proved no dilemma to the Argus Online Server (AOS), I still worry about the full capabilities and limits. Until a thorough opportunity to research its potential can be conducted, only a select number of individuals will be allowed the opportunity to play." When asked when the game would be fully released to the general public, Argus CEO commented somewhere between August to December of next year, with an international release to be expected between mid to late 2024. No pre-ordering will be made available until October 31_ _st_ _, 16:00 JST, and it will be first come, first serve. The gaming community has held mixed…"_

Two years? Shoot, this would have been great for Christmas.

Next.

This one was simply a list of images. Vast landscapes. Monsters in vicious stances. Characters striking dramatic poses. Gifs of character movements and fights. Wide images of a large and lively town. Someone hugging a tree. A guy fishing. The same guy with a fish the size of my head. Some kids camping. A bar with four guys raising glasses to the camera. A girl freaking out as she rode a panicked boar her sword seemed incapable of killing, even as she had it stabbed into its shoulder blades. There were hundreds more.

Every photo was vibrant. Alive and exciting.

Looking around, my apartment lacked a similar sense of life to them. The camping, fishing, parties – how long was it since our last vacation? Five years, maybe? Was it the beach or was it hiking? I didn't have a photo to remember. My place didn't have frames hung on the walls, I never bought a camera to make memories and even the fridge had only a single picture of sorts held by an old magnet. A selfie of the first day Ethan came to live with me.

Selfies. I was in school during the craze of self-picturing. They were more annoying than anything else. But Ethan was smiling and dragged me into his shot before I could stop him. He was happier then.

But the fact remained, there was more joy in these pictures then this entire room. And definitely more than Ethan or I'd felt for a long time.

I need to fix that.

I checked for another link – yes, this Sword Art thing had my attention and at least it was better than bad TV – but most of the other pages were videos, articles or guides made by the 'Betas' for public use.

I think I was up to link twenty when I found the most important page of the bunch.

 **SWORD ART ONLINE**

 **LIMITED RELEASE**

 **OCTOBER 31, 18:00 JST**

 **TIME UNTIL:**

 **1 DAY(S), 22 HOUR(S), 37 MINUTE(S), 23 SECOND(S)**

 _Purchase Now_

The official site.

Big, eye-catching letters at the front. Background images with interesting sights. Small showings of player's views – sword fights, treasure finding, general merriment – the whole page basically screamed 'wait for me' and 'buy me, sucker.' The game cover at the sides. And the asking price…well, I guess it would be expected to be a bit more than the usual costs. The first of its kind and definitely a limited release one at that. And the NerveGear below…shoot, these things had some zeros to them. I could buy a new computer with that kinda cash.

And right at the front of it all, a big countdown with a faded 'purchase now' button just waiting to be pressed by tens of thousands of others.

Yeah, I'll admit it, I could see why Ethan had the laptop littered with this stuff. I'm a little tempted myself. See, back when I was Ethan's age, I could still remember when the 'VR' craze came about. How everyone thought it was the next best thing and all the talk was about those overpriced devices being the next great step in gaming. Now, I was young, but even I knew this was a dumb fad that would fade away soon. Because what they called VR, I called…less flattery terms.

Those things were just headsets with mini screens inside, connected to some uncomfortable hand controls. That wasn't going to do it for me.

I wanted James Cameron's Avatar. Was that too much to ask for?

Maybe. But from what I was seeing on the pages, Kayaba seemed to make my childish dreams a reality. 'Praise Kayaba,' as the video put it. And the release would be soon. All proof shown in big, bold letters and numbers. I bet the news would be all over this-

Oh, I have to get to work.

\

 **TB – J**

\

 **Author's Note: Ah. The first mention of SAO. And so, it begins...**

 **Also, first time with Jon. I'll be jumping between the two, giving a perspective to both in story. I hope I characterize them enough for reading pleasure.**

 **Next Update : 7/13/2017**


	3. The First Day III

Title: Two Brothers

Summary: We don't speak the language. We can't read the words. The menu is a troll. Half the time something wants to kill us and the other half is us trying to kill it. In short: Sword Art Online is the worst thing ever. OC Duo First-Person Narrative

 **Beginning Note: Just wanted to give a shout out to all the wonderful people who have perused this story so far! You make my day knowing that my work is being seen and hopefully appreciated! God bless you all and here's a new update!**

 **Plus, I just went to see Castlevania on Netflix, very impressed, R-rated for a reason but if you're old enough, check it out. Highly recommend it.**

/

 **TB – E**

/

It's not even five. What the hell was that?

Loud clap in the other room, unsettling silence after…the front door slamming shut. Has to be. It's something I haven't heard for a while and usually meant Jon needed to get to work fast. That's never a good thing.

But usually, those times were followed after the loud ring of his phone – an obnoxious noise that I guarantee could wake the dead. It was a kind of 'hey, shit's going down, move your ass' alarm. Really hard to ignore. Even the deep sleeper that is Jon jumps at it.

But I didn't hear anything – and believe me, I'd hear it – so…huh.

Was Jon running late?

That's a weird thought. My brother's a punctual guy. 'Early is on time, on time is late, and late is unacceptable.' I've heard that from him plenty.

Anyway, I don't move after Jon's brash exit. Mainly because, yeah, last night. I'm under the pretense that if my brother decides to run back to our place and grab something he might have forgot, I'd rather not be around when he does. Avoiding any awkward confrontations sounds great right now. At least until later.

And besides, it's Saturday. Sun's not even out. I'm going to sleep.

/

 **TB – E**

/

Slept in till noon. Hate when I do that.

Jon's not back. Which means he's probably gonna be home late. Which leaves me anywhere from one to eight hours to do whatever I want. I can live with that. Leftover pizza, soda, football – if my days are numbered, I'm going to make them count. And mind-numbing televised entertainment with a little junk food sounded like as good a place as any to start.

But before that, I need a sec. Somethings off.

Ah, I see it now.

A good way to know if Jon gets home at night is to look for the pillow and blanket. The apartment is small, he sleeps on the couch, not hard to miss them. If the blanket is folded, if the pillow has a head-shaped impression, and if the cushions are pressed like something heavy has been laying on them – these are signs he was home. But if these things are missing, not home.

It's basic deduction. I'm no Sherlock, but you notice the patterns after three years.

Which makes right now really weird. My brother was home last night - hard to forget that - but the couch doesn't have pressed cushions and the pillow isn't ruffled. The blanket's still on the floor pressed off to the side. I can remember how it looked last night, how it laid, and I can almost definitely say it hasn't been touched since then.

So, that means…shit, what does that mean?

Oh, the laptop. Jon was looking at the laptop. Crap, tell me I didn't leave the girls up again.

Turning on…turning on…turning on…we need a new computer.

/

 **TB – E**

/

 _Everything You Need to Know About VR Interfaces_

 _How NOT to be a Complete Dumbass with NerveGear_

 _If It Moves, Kill It. Guide to SAO_

Okay. No girls. Good. Alright. Avoiding awkward is always awesome.

Nothing to worry about here, I almost leave it at that. But the first page to pop up catches my eye.

I know I wasn't looking at SAO's site (1 day, 13 hours, 49 minutes, 12 seconds left – fuck yeah) last time I was on. Without question. It's a boring page to stare at for longer than thirty seconds. Plus, I was pretty sure I got caught up in reading about a third-floor quest, so I know I wasn't perusing SAO official.

So why's the page up?

My guess? Jon probably just tried minimizing my stuff. Left this one up at the end. I had a lot of pages open and probably got tired getting rid of them all.

Probably.

This isn't a big deal. Really. I'm just a little antsy to my stuff, is all. Never liked people looking over my shoulder or going through my things. Even when the 'private stuff' is just a couple of stupid links about some video game I have my eye on, I like to keep it on the down low. I have an image to keep; a kid gets weird looks when they're seen openly perusing the gaming channels. Typically followed by the teen declarative naming of 'nerd,' 'dork,' 'freak' or other less flattery titles. I'll pass on that, thanks.

SAO, NerveGear, VR, FullDive. All gaming stuff. Sure, I'm probably burning the motherboard to hell and back with all the crap I have up but if I'm honest, this stuff has kinda been my new drug for a while. Everything I've either seen or read sings praises for the insanely immersive interface or how the upcoming VRMMORPG (Jesus, that's a mouthful) is taking full advantage of its potential. That's seriously cool. The idea of slaying actual monsters in a world as fantastical as Aincrad is just too good to pass up. I'd have to be a complete dumbass if I didn't at least look into it.

But back on topic: all of my pages look to still be here. Which is good, 'cause I wasn't done reading them. But its obvious somethings are different.

That ten-minute video I pulled up? That's been watched. I didn't even see it past the first thirty seconds.

The news article I only read the first paragraph on? The page has been scrolled through down to the very last few lines, some ten lengthy paragraphs below. Unless someone decided to break in, jump on the laptop, peruse my interests and then vacate without anyone knowing, my guess is Jon took a little peek at some of the things I had up.

And this mattered because…?

Well, I guess it doesn't. Maybe I'm just on edge. I don't want anything I leave to say 'hey, Jon, send that brother of yours to California this instant.' SAO would hardly do that, I think. Not unless Jon decided video games equaled poor life decisions and were the reasons why I did what I did (which I doubt).

Still, used laptop, undisturbed couch, leaving early in a rush. I'm pretty sure something's up, but right now, I got nothing. And I'm hungry.

Soda. Pizza. Now.

/

 **TB – E**

/

"Hey."

Shit. Didn't even hear the door open. "Hey." I shout back, looking up to Jon while my fingers still fiddled and weaved to the controller. I couldn't see what was happening on screen, but I think I was killing someone. Benefits of years of passive-aggressive gaming, I guess. "You look dead." I'm not kidding. If the black rings under his eyes didn't give it away, his slow walk and nine second yawn did. My brother looked ready for a nice, long, twelve-hour nap.

Maybe I should have used more tact, but I got a laugh out of him so I'll take it as a win.

He went for the fridge, dropping his stuff by the table and aiming for what I guess was the first bit of food he's had since lunch (if that). Which left me a minute or two to finish up.

" _Triple kill…quadruple kill…quintup-SEXTUPLE KILL. Team kill."_

See? That's how you don't suck with someone who looks like they came out of a cheap cowboy flick.

" _Victory."_

Is there a sweeter word than that? Play that winner's music.

"How was your day?" Jon asks. I can hear the microwave chime on.

"Good." Keep your answers short and simple. I would love to watch if I made the 'game maker play,' but I think we need some sports. It's something of a personal practice of mine: when Jon comes home, games off and whatever he wants on. And after last night, that rule took on a whole new level of important. Gotta keep him happy. "How was work?"

"Long." He fell to the other side of the couch, pizza in mouth. "But not bad."

Long. My eyes go to the small clock hanging on the wall.

It's already eight. I remember eating lunch, drinking soda, turning on the console and then…Jon came in.

Wow.

" _-pass incomplete to Shirey down the right side, deflected by Roberts."_

Two no-name teams going up against the other. No big. Still sports.

"Mom called last night." Jon says after a minute of filling his mouth.

"Yeah?" Another midnight call. I shouldn't be surprised.

"Hmm. Said she won't be able to make it to Thanksgiving. Has a party or something she needs to be at for work." He took a drink of water. A long drink. "So it looks like it'll just be you and me."

" _-and Calvin takes a hard hit trying to take it up the middle!"_

Huh. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuckity fuck. "Okay." Fuck.

Jon takes a second, long sip. "Are you okay?"

Fuck no. "Yeah, I'm good."

" _-and Aarons is hit for a massive loss of yards! And there may be an injury down by-"_

Part of me wonders if Jon can sense the bullshit – police mindreading or whatever. I'm not sure how my 'meh, whatever, no big' face looks but I can feel his eyes on me. I am really trying to keep my cool here and he is not helping that.

But after few seconds, he nods and turns back to the game. "Alright then." And that was that.

" _Paramedics are running onto the field. Johansson doesn't seem to be moving much. He looks to be in a lot of pain."_

I like to consider myself a bonafide dumbass from time to time. This is one of them.

Mom missing a holiday isn't a great surprise. Off a quick guess, I'd say this was probably the seventh or eighth cancelled trip in a row. Sucker bet it won't be the last.

I'm used to it in the sort of way that's annoying as hell and pisses me off to no end. Especially when that dumb, optimistic teenage side of me won't stop hoping that maybe – just maybe – the next holiday will be the one she'll keep her word for. That after who knows how long, Mom might actually make the trip down to see how a couple of her kids are doing face-to-face.

I should know better. I should.

I'm smarter than this.

/

 **TB – E**

/

Well, that game sucked.

A complete blowout from one end of the field to the other; one shitty team losing to only a slightly less piss-poor excuse for muscle heads in some of the most painful displays of football I've ever seen. Plays were weak, thrill was lacking, and I swear the losing quarterback was just aiming his passes to the other team. Half the stadium was empty before the first half was even done; add in some rain and cold about mid-halftime, and everyone who decided to stay and watch till the end looked absolutely miserable.

I could relate to that.

We didn't talk during the game, Jon or I. We're usually a couple of guys who got their kicks out of even the crappiest of games. We'd stand, scream, shout at the TV because someone did something stupid – the basics of a sport fanning. But tonight, the awkward was palpable. None of that usual cheer, fist-pumping fun from any of us. My brother just sat across from me, passing in and out of sleep with the occasional look over to my side of the couch. Maybe he wanted to say something or think whatever adults think about with a troubled kid in the room (I am troubled, I have no delusions of that), but he never actually did anything else. Jon would just go back to the game or nibble his food.

As for me, I'm pretty much ninja-level at pretending to be a literal definition of 'inconspicuous' by now. I never moved unless Jon's eyes closed and a light snore was hearable, which I took as my cue to sneak around and grab whatever food or soda I could to make the best of this enjoyable situation. I didn't even try to change the channel, lest I wake him. 'Let sleeping giants lie,' I guess. And at the beginning, I thought I could live with that.

But that was a few hours ago, and every minute since has been complete shit.

Now, Jon's up and washing the dishes. He doesn't look happy, but he doesn't look mad either. He hasn't brought up Dad or mentioned anything else about Mom. He's just quiet, which I guess isn't that off from the usual. He's no Mr. Talkative, I can tell you that. But…are we avoiding the talk? Was that what was happening? I'm sitting here, pretending to give a hoot about whatever was on the screen, trying to not look too excited for the inevitable. Like an inmate on death row. Waiting for Jon to get it over with.

Why couldn't it be quick? Like ripping off a bandage. A really, really big bandage. With military-grade adhesive. Which happens to be sticking to your eye.

Oh, the stress. The stress is real. The stress is very, very real.

"Ethan."

Oh, thank God. "Yeah?" Initiate innocent kid protocol: eyes wide, face curious and pure, picture of virtue. My version of girls' puppy dog look; my I-can-do-no-wrong-I'm-a-saint-pure-of-heart-choir-boy face. And for the record, I think mine works better. "What's up?"

Jon's standing from the sink, looking over me. Thinking. Stressed. He takes a long, deep breath while running a hand through the short strands of his hair. He's pursing his lips – definite stress.

His eyes are to the floor. And he's quiet. Real quiet. Then, like the night before, he pulls a chair from our makeshift dining table and sits himself down.

"I'm only going to say this _once_ ," he tells me, lifting his head to look me in the eye, "and you need to give me your word. Got it?" He points a finger to me. That means business. Add in that I'm now getting the patented 'bad cop' look, a look I only get when I really screw the pooch, and I decide that there is nothing more important than who's sitting in front of me.

"Okay," that's a piss-poor response, you're better than that, "I mean, yeah. Yes, definitely."

That's basically a blank check of my word, but he seems to like it enough. "Alright," Jon takes another long, tired breath, "Ethan, this is going to be my only warning: _don't_ be stupid like this again," he's punctuating his words, making sure I won't forget them. I won't. "You get me?"

"I get you." I don't need a second to reply. It's a weak answer, I know, and my voice cracked a little. But it works. I don't usually deal with being ordered around but…bad cop look. Don't fuck with it. Put pride in the shitter and be thankful. I get what he's saying. Subtlety and all.

Which means, with an equal bit subtlety: _**Fuckin' A**_.

I don't know how well I'm hiding the 'thank-you-to-the-tenth-power' look on my face, but I don't think Jon's gonna bust my chops for it. He's a boy scout that way. Probably could get away with a little happy dance if I wanted.

He lowers his finger, taking me for my word and lays back. He looks like he's lost twenty pounds from his shoulders. Probably been beating himself about this since yesterday. He's a worrier like that. "Alright. Okay, good," he nods. "Head to bed. Be sure to get up early. You're helping me with breakfast."

Breakfast? Like, homemade? Breakfast and no punishment?

"Then we're going to morning service."

Ah. There it is. Always something.

Well, whatever. An hour of being quiet and standing to sing a little hallelujah isn't the worst thing to ever happen when I perform a royal fuck up. And by that alone, the weekend's not looking so crappy anymore. I can deal with that.

/

 **TB – E**

/

 **Author's Note: Might seem like a quick resolution, but it wasn't as if a crime was actually committed. It could have been a lot worse if the egg was thrown. Plus, this story isn't about the almost-crime, I think we could already figure that one out ourselves.** **There will still be some repercussions in the coming days. But, for now, end on a happy note.**

 **Besides, this was mainly to illustrate background info. Subtle bits which will play larger points later on. Plus, I wanted to show that I WILL be making game reference in-story. To the ones who can guess what game I referenced here today, which I can't imagine will be too difficult, you get a cookie.**

 **As always, _please_ leave a review if you liked the chapter. It helps the story, helps it get out there and be known, helps me feel good, and that's all very important, right?**

 **Next Update : 7/16/2017**


	4. The First Day IV

Title: Two Brothers

Summary: We don't speak the language. We can't read the words. The menu is a troll. Half the time something wants to kill us and the other half is us trying to kill it. In short: Sword Art Online is the worst thing ever. OC Duo First-Person Narrative

\

 **October 30, 2022**

\

I want there to be no doubts: if Ethan fails to meet the expectations I have set for him, I'm letting Dad take over.

I will buy the ticket, put him on the plane, and that will be the end of it.

For most of today (or, yesterday now, I guess), I've thought on how I should handle Ethan. I considered carefully the positives, the negatives, and everything in between for either sending him away or offering a second (or could it be considered sixth?) chance. It was somewhat distracting, as I was worn and sore whilst working and trying to remain a competent officer. Probably not my smartest decision to consider major life choices while on the clock, but hindsight's twenty-twenty. And for better or worse, I couldn't put those thoughts away. They were distracting. I've now gone back and forth on this issue for the last twenty hours and it was no easier deciding in the first than it was in the last.

It took some bad sports, passing in and out of sleep for the last three hours and cleaning the dishes (oddly enough) to clear my head on what I thought was the right thing to do.

Now, that doesn't mean it was the best decision. For all I know, Ethan may steal forty turkeys next week for Thanksgiving, or Dukes of Hazzard my Pinto into a Walmart before Christmas. Or, hey, maybe he'll jump off a cliff because all the cool kids are doing it. My point is that I have no idea what my brother will do next. I hope for the best – hope he'll listen to my words and stick to the straight and narrow – but I've done the same for the last few screw-ups he's been in. I really don't know what Ethan will do next. And that scares the living…it scares me.

I don't think I know my brother anymore. How sad is that?

But, I think I have a solution for this - I wouldn't have made my final decision without some sort of contingency. See, a frankly terrible idea came into my head sometime during the day. A rather bold or extreme thought which, were I of a more rested and rationale mind, may have been overstepped or be ridded of soon after its conception. But, as I've already pointed out, I was not, and so the idea grew and festered into something which I couldn't put curiosity away from. I suppose some the best and worst ideas happen when you're ready to pass out, and it might just be the insomnia speaking to me now, but my little plot seemed like a fun, if financially taxing, escapade. A way to get away from all the stresses here. And I figured I should make it a surprise, so no telling Ethan. Why? Because I'm pretty sure he'd call me an idiot or similarly less kind phrase if he knew what I was thinking of doing. Plus, since my wallet is less than affluent than I would otherwise like at the moment…I'm going to need to make a call if this little bit of ingenuity could even be at all possible to undertake.

So: grab phone, walk out the front door for some privacy (and so Ethan doesn't overhear the conversation from the other room), consider words carefully and type in numbers.

"…"

"…"

"…"

"… _Hello?"_

Good, he answered. "Hey, Dad. It's Jon. You got a quick sec? I have a favor I want to ask you…"

\

 **TB - J**

\

 **Author's Note: The updates will occasionally be short chapters. Do not worry, this also means the occasional chapter will be longer than usual, as a result. But with these shorter chapters, I can more easily start writing a next chapter which may be longer, more story-driven.**

 **It's a plus-negative situation.**

 **Next Update : 7/18/2017**


	5. The First Day V

Title: Two Brothers

Summary: We don't speak the language. We can't read the words. The menu is a troll. Half the time something wants to kill us and the other half is us trying to kill it. In short: Sword Art Online is the worst thing ever. OC Duo First-Person Narrative

/

 **October 30, 2022**

/

Today hasn't been complete shit. I can say that with a straight face. It was actually pretty sweet.

Okay, sure, it wasn't without some tension, a few stiff moments, and maybe the awkward silence or two. But mostly? Two thumbs up.

The day started out awesome. Woke up early, Jon was already cooking up a meal. And when I say meal, I mean eggs, sausage, bacon, biscuits, French toast – when was the last time we had French toast? Honestly? And there was syrup, jam, cream cheese, and enough to fill that smallish dinner table three times over. Don't know where the motivation came from or where the whole 'you're helping me make breakfast' went, but if I get to eat like a king every time I make a dumbass mistake then maybe I should think of how I can one up myself with the whole egg thing. Maybe something with Jon's car and a collision with Dairy Queen…

That was a joke, I swear.

We went to church after. Won't bore you with deep details; we came, we learned someone had faith, sang a little hallelujah, and left. Yeah, I know, _riveting_ stuff.

Noon came. Made some lunch – reheated sausage and a scrambled egg sandwich tasted better than I imagined – and turned on some sports. Jon and I did a little yelling, a little cheering, and we were smiling. There was definitely more cheer in the room than last night (progress). But as I said, there were a few stiff moments here and there. Nothing painful, just reminders of the last couple days.

We dealt with it casually. It was nice.

But…okay, there was something weird with Jon. See, while we were watching the games, my brother was sort of half-assing it. And I don't mean in the way he was last night – tired and looking ready to take a nice long nap, I mean his focus was elsewhere. Namely, back to the laptop.

Laptop. _Again._

When we got home from church, Jon went for the old board. He put himself to a chair and went to work on whatever he had his head focused on. His fingers moved and typed away for hours, occasionally taking some moments to pause and look over something I hadn't the angle to see what at but it must have been important. Jon doesn't do computers. I've never seen him on one for this long, and when he is, it's usually for work and usually at the desk. Quiet, pensive, and focused. Absolute silence in the room. I don't make a sound to mess with him while he's doing his thing.

But here? Now? He's relaxed. He's been talking with me even with his eyes to the screen. Occasionally, he'd stray a glance to the television or to his phone but mostly his focus was to the computer. And it almost looks like he's having fun doing whatever he's doing; definitely has that grin to his lips.

My curiosity is stoked. "Hey," I call out.

"Hmm?" His eyes don't leave the computer.

"Whatcha lookin' at?" I finally feel enough nerve to ask what's held him up for the last six-seven hours.

"Hm. Just some stuff." Unspecific.

"What kind of stuff?

"Just stuff." Really unspecific.

"Work stuff?" I already guessed it wasn't but no harm in asking.

"Nah. Personal."

"Oh," I act surprised. Again, already figured that. "Like what?" I dig a little deeper; playing it innocent like I don't care one-way or the other if he tells me or not. I think I'm convincing, at least.

He shrugs, still staring down to the screen. "Just this and that. Tell you about it later."

"Cool." Jon's avoiding my questions. Being sneaky. I didn't even know he knew how to be sneaky.

Well, weirdness aside, I guess this isn't something to worry about yet.

Quick look down at my phone – 7 HOUR(S), 12 MINUTE(S), 2 SECOND(S) – says I still have plenty of time.

Nothing to worry about. My plan is still a go.

/

 **October 31, 2022**

/

I haven't revealed what my plan is yet, have I? Have I even said I had a plan?

No? Good.

There's a reason for that. See, hundreds of hours of near-religious film watching and personal paranoia have induced a semi-unconscious belief that plans should never outwardly be spoken or given clues toward. Doing so will inevitably lead to their failure and/or possibly being turned around in your face. It's a movie thing, I guess, to never speak about what you have planned because God just loves giving you the middle finger if you do (the guy has to get his shits and giggles somehow).

For me, it's like teenagers having sex in a horror flick. Sure, it may be tempting to give it a go, but to the slasher villain, it's like Twinkies laced with crack. You'll most likely get screwed over in a way you'll never forget.

Point being, keep things quiet and close to the chest.

But I don't think I need to keep a pretense of secrecy anymore. Mostly because the plan has seen something of a hitch.

Oh, and the plan? I was going to buy Sword Art Online.

Shocking, right? Probably no one on the face of the earth could have guessed.

Sarcasm aside, I'll admit I've wanted to buy a copy of the game since the first BETA player reviews came out. I, like a majority of the gaming world, felt the hype and hoped to snag a copy come opening day. Even saved up to buy myself a NerveGear, which despite initial reviews suggesting it was for little better use than a fancy paperweight, were quickly flying off the shelves from what I've heard. All for the chance to hopefully feel the grandeur that is the SAO experience.

I've been counting the days till its release for a while. Halloween day, which in my opinion is one of the best holidays ever, and am not too proud enough to admit that I've prayed the game didn't turn into a giant buzzkill.

But then the announcements came: Kayaba Akihiko wanted the game to be limited upon release. Strictly to ten-thousand players to test their servers.

What a kick in the balls. I could already tell getting the game online would be like pulling a winning lottery ticket. Those copies would be gone faster than I could blink if I didn't get myself ready with a trigger finger at the 'purchase now' key (it's the reason why I kept SAO's site up and running, even if it wasn't much to glance at).

I figured, if I got lucky, I'd press that button, put my info in, then have the helmet and game shipped overseas. Didn't seem so impossible of a plan, at first.

To be frank, I'm not even sure if the Argus – that's the company behind SAO and the NerveGear – could even connect me to the game half-a-world away (which would probably be fine; maybe they had some kinda single player or offline play I could casual on till something else came out for the helmet in America). From what I've read, through the company's personal orbiting hardware (that's fancy talk for satellites), the NerveGear helmet connects to the game server onboard, which then connects with the servers located in the basement of Argus's main office. There's more complexity and large words to it but I'm just a high schooler. I had to Google most of the words to make sense of them in the first place and don't feel too keen to do that again.

But the coolest thing about all this was that the whole system offered a game-singular-based Wi-Fi to its user. The developer, Kayaba Akihiko himself, pushed for the motion to allow free connection and remove any 'monthly subscription fees' to his product. Said it was an annoyance he wouldn't tolerate – even helped design the orbital device to the specifications and necessities of his consoles to ensure maximum speed and efficiency for everyone.

Let me reiterate: he builds satellites, makes kickass video games, and offers free Wi-Fi. The dude is the epitome of awesome. Like 'Japanese Batman' awesome.

Praise Kayaba.

Now, call me stubborn, but I figured I might as well give it a shot. Didn't spend all those hours working late nights at McDonalds, babysitting apartment-neighbor' kids, or saving up Christmas cards full of cash for nothing. I did the math, found the costs if I were to import the hardware, and figured I'd barely have two cents to rub together after this. Guys with more common sense would save it for something more practical. Something to buy that they knew wouldn't give them nearly the levels of possible problems and/or failures that my ingenious plan would.

But, well, 'in for a penny' right?

Now I've come full circle and this is where the problems start. It's 3am. Well, _almost_ 3am. I'm awake, obviously, and you know why? Because the people at Argus are a bunch of dicks.

See, keeping with some of the weirdest selling options I have ever seen for a new game, Argus decided to release their game at 4pm Japan time. Why? I've heard everything from Argus deciding to release the game before kids would go out trick-or-treating (Japan has Halloween, who knew?) to 'Akihiko' having four syllables. It's pure stupidity from one side of the forums to the other, with conspiracy theories and end-of-the-world talk placed here and there for good measure.

My guess? It's because they _can_. Because Argus is _weird_.

This is just par for the course, really.

I didn't think this would be a problem. Waking up was the easy part; seven alarms telling me to get my shit together seemed to work well enough. The plan after was to sneak into the other room, grab Jon's laptop, log on, make about fifteen prayers to every God I could think of then hope the millisecond the timer went off-

 _(Quick glance to open phone)_ **4 MINUTE(S), 23 SECOND(S)**

-I'd get some message in the positive. Hell, I don't even care what the message is. It could say 'CONGRATULATIONS! YOU'VE GOT SOME FAST FINGERS! THAT'LL SERVE YOU WELL IN LIFE, NERD!' and as long as I got the game, I'd be cool with it.

I'm simple like that.

Anyway, this is where the snag comes in. _Jon's awake._ And worse, thanks to paper-thin walls, I can hear him typing.

He's on the laptop. Again. At three in the morning.

In the Miller house, this is considered a 'what-the-actual-fuck' moment. Did he even go to sleep? Sleep and Jon go pretty much hand-in-hand. Was it work? Didn't hear the alarm, so probably not. Insomnia? Nah, Jon would kick insomnia's ass and sleep on its broken carcass. Was he watching por-OH GOD, not going into that train of thought.

 **3 MINUTE(S), 4 SECOND(S)**

Well, the situation isn't hopeless yet. Any good plan must have a backup or three. And I have one.

In the one-in-a-million chance Jon actually woke up or saw I was taking his laptop, I did have something of a contingency. Namely, my phone.

Like the laptop, it's an old thing. Not 'flip-phone' old, but I do get the occasional odd look at my less than up-to-date model. But since I use it mostly for music and the occasional call/text, I really don't need it for much else. Its internet connection's crap and has a decent crack in the upper left of the screen, but it would do.

 **1 MINUTE(S), 49 SECOND(S)**

I imagine the servers are going nuts about now. A worldwide sale on a very limited resource; that kind of traffic won't be easy to handle. Shitty as this phone is, it's taking some seconds to update the little timer which was something it usually had no trouble buffering through.

I was doing a little 'one-Mississippi' in my head just to keep track of the clock. Second back-up plan, I guess. To keep track of the clock when the clock in the phone stopped ticking. Got to about fourteen before it got real old, real fast.

And I am distracted. Focus.

 **57 SECOND(S)**

My finger is slamming to the screen as the timer ticks. Fast, very fast. The 'purchase now' key won't work until time is up. At which point, the button should indicate the game is up for grabs. But until then, I'm slamming my thumb down hard and fast and repeatedly.

Does it look silly for the teen-boy to be slamming his finger down to his damaged phone at nearly three in the morning trying to purchase a game from half a world away? No shit.

Do. I. _Care?_ No.

 **38 SECOND(S)**

As an admittance to the inner-dork that resides within me, I actually feel a little excited here. Spending money like this – it makes the heart beat a little faster, but I think that's the excitement rather than a subconscious 'you're-performing-a-stupid-right-now-Ethan' thing.

 **20 SECOND(S)**

Plus, I'm feeling kinda lucky. So, there's that.

 **17 SECON-**

…

…

…

…

The screen's gone dark.

Well, not entirely dark. A blinking battery is still showing up in the center. It's empty, with a little lightning bolt symbol at its front.

Charging. The phone needs charging.

…

…

…

… _Fuck_.

I reach over to the cord at the side of my bed, plugged into the wall. Doesn't take me much longer than a few seconds to jam one end into the necessary slot. But the phone decides not to respond to the plug. Not right away.

Old phone. It's black-screened for almost a minute. Then it jumps back on.

There's the page. The timers changed, it's showing a current time clock. It's one minute after midnight and the 'purchase now' button is lit with gold-coloring. An obvious change from the dull, unclickable gray I've more than familiarized myself with over the last few months.

I don't know even why I even bother. I press the button.

It doesn't even take a second. A small, squared message opens to the screen almost immediately. "Sorry," I whisper the words, "our product is presently sold out. Please check back when Sword Art Online™ goes on full sale. We thank you for your patronage and wish you a wonderful day."

And that's it.

You know, I could _really_ go into how poorly compensating this message is to anyone who actually wanted a copy. I could go on about how I hear Jon still typing in the next room and how it's driving me a little stir-crazy. I could go into how this decade old phone is about to find itself a one-way trip down a fully-filled toilet tomorrow morning _if_ I'm feeling merciful and decide not to just take a good old hammer to it for cathartic reasons. I could even go on how I have school in three hours, which is always just so super.

But nah. Nah, I think I'm just gonna sleep. I am feeling _really_ tired right now.

/

 **TB – E**

/

School was a bust.

Eight hours of droning on and on and on. The weather was gray and clouded. The lasting effects of weekend fun and peace was waning on everyone. Even the teachers looked less than thrilled to be there.

I saw Danny at one point. Which wasn't hard, considering his size. From across the hall, he gave me – what I would only translate after a while – gestures that he, nor anyone else, was caught after our escape from Friday night. He seemed damn proud of himself, too, as if they evaded the wrath of the law itself. I didn't gesture back with more than a nod and left it at that.

The memory's still too fresh. My own stupidity, too annoying.

Well, school came and school went (hallelujah). The walk home isn't too bad; a bit chilly but uneventful. A few kids were already running around, dressed as everything from princesses to aliens, laughing and enjoying themselves before their watching parents gave them the go ahead to knock on a few doors.

That brought back a few memories. I was always partial to being a little grim reaper and scaring the girls in class. Good times.

Coming up to the apartment, my mind goes to last night's failure. I managed to skip on most of the depression for the day; aside from a couple guys speaking about it here and there, a news article posted by one of my more 'eccentric' teachers, and maybe some news on the radio on how some big shot in Seattle snagged a copy for himself and would be taking his private jet to Japan this weekend for a couple weeks of fun.

Some guys have all the luck.

And it stinks. Really. Feels more like a personal failure then anything. Like I wasn't trying hard enough to secure the win (cellphones are the bane of every teen's existence, I'm calling that now). But, meh, maybe I'll binge in the carnage of some overly-violent bit of gaming for the night. I've always found decapitating some poor schmuck to be positively therapeutic-

Jon's home.

"Hey! Welcome home!" My brother waves to me, smiling. No, actually, he's grinning, there's a difference. Grins are happier. He's in his uniform, sitting at the smallish dining table with a mug of something steaming in hand. "How was school?"

He's been waiting for me. The fuck? "Hey," I manage. Why is he home? Why are you home? "You're home. Hi." Awkward me is awkward.

"I'm home." He returns with the obvious. "I got some good news. Come here."

This is weird. Jon's being weird. Isn't he supposed to be on the clock? Halloween obligatory police watch? Did I miss the cop car in the lot? This is weird and I can't exactly say why. The air in the room…something's not right.

"What's up?" I sit opposite of him. There's some paper on the table. It's flipped over – can't make out the stuff on it. Connect the dots, the paper is probably important. "What's the good news?" Keep it casual, keep it casual, keep it casual…

Jon pressed his fingers down to the sheets and nudged them to me. He's still smiling, which I am finding somewhat foreboding now, but has this kind of joyful gleam to it I haven't seen in…shit, forever, I guess. "So," he starts, "I know it's Halloween, but I thought we could think of today as a sort of early Christmas instead." He smiled a little wider, a laugh under his breath. "I guess you could say it's like a…a happy ' _Chrisoween!_ '"

Oh. Oh no.

That-that was corny. That was a corny-ass line that I hope to never-ever hear again.

Ever.

Looking at my brother, with that grin and that silent cheer, I almost feel like I'm developing a serious case of diabetes. Anyone watching would think he just said something deep and thought-provoking on the level of Plato or Socrates, with a bit of humor on the side. The weirdness of this whole brother-being-home-and-being-mysterious thing hit rock bottom as I try not to perform the world's most epic eyeroll.

The dork-side is strong with my brother. Sometimes I forget that.

Well, whatever. I'm not one to wait on ceremony or appreciate the setting of a dramatic pause before a great reveal. Bite the bullet and get it over with.

Commence epic paper flip.

/

 **TB – E**

/

 **ARGUS**

 **Congratulations on your purchase!**

 **This email is being provided to** _ **ETHAN MILLER**_ **for the following purchases! We thank you for your  
interest in our products and hope your experience with our product takes you to a world beyond your  
imagination!**

 **/\  
\/**

 _ **PURCHASE ORDER 01334:**_

 **QUANTITY: 1**

 **ITEM: Sword Art Online (SAO) – Limited Edition – NerveGear**

 **SOLD BY: Argus**

 **TOTAL: $**

 **ORDER PLACED: October 31, 2022**

 **PICK UP DETAILS:** **Click here**

 **QUANTITY: 2**

 **ITEM: Argus NerveGear HeadConsole – 5TB**

 **SOLD BY: Argus**

 **TOTAL: $**

 **ORDER PLACED: October 31, 2022**

 **PICK UP DETAILS:** **Click here**

 **If you have any questions, concerns, complications  
or issues with the listed products, click here.**

/

 **TB – E**

/

Huh.

"So," someone's talki-oh, Jon, "what do you think?"

What do I think? I think LittleBrotherMiller. exe is not responding.

I look over to Jon. I open my mouth, hoping something resembling a cognitive sentence will pour out, but I don't really have an answer to his question. Nothing in my head except this blank, empty surprise swirling around trying to make sense of this. Made worse by how Jon's grin is starting to morph into a full-on smirk at whatever look my face is doing.

I'd slap him if I wasn't sure he'd pin me in five seconds flat. Shaking his head and laughing while he did it.

That's a level of humiliation my pride wouldn't heal from.

Pain-in-the-ass brother aside…holy fuck, _what am I looking at?_

Is this fucking real? Reality doesn't usually have this level of 'whoa-factor,' so forgive my skepticism if I consider for a second about punching myself in the face to wake up from this honest-to-God, too-good-to-be-true dream.

Or nightmare. Maybe this is some kinda disappointment-induced nightmare from last night. One where all the good stuff happens and then, when you suddenly wake up a second later, you wish you could go back to the dream.

That's the worst kind of dreaming. I'd pinch myself but I'm pretty sure that's a cliché which never works.

Still…shit, is this real? This can't be real. But what if it is? I don't hyperventilate, but I'm breathing a little faster and trying really hard not to 'woo-hoo.'

Which isn't easy. Jon's smile is practically contagious. I can feel the left side of my mouth starting to twitch.

Eyes back to paper. The words are still there, still the same.

Flip to another page.

/

 **TB – E**

/

 **Dear Mr. Miller:**

 **This is a confirmation email sent about your renting Suite 1031 of the Chizz-Noal. The accommodations have been set and your transfer has been passed through. We look forward to having you for the remainder of your stay. We thank you for choosing our service and hope your visit is not only to your liking, but goes far and beyond the usual service.**

 **Details: Suite 1031, Double Bedroom, Living Room**

 **Location: Japan** **105-5622 Tokyo, Minato, Higashishinbashi, 1 Chome−** **8** **−1**

 **Directions from Haneda Airport:** **Click here**

 **Suite key pickup and drop-off is available at all hours. For any questions or concerns, you may contact us through email or phone at…**

/

 **TB – E**

/

This page had less details. But the implications of what I'm looking at are pretty clear.

Holy shit holy shit holy shit holy shit _holy shit holy shit HOLY-_

Suite. Chizz-Noal. Higa-something-something-unpronounceable. T-

"Tokyo?" Hey, a discernable word out of my mouth. "Tokyo? Tokyo… _Japan_?" I'm pretty sure there's a 'no shit, Ethan' somewhere in the back of my head but I'm not going to acknowledge imaginary voices telling me off right now.

I'm sure I'm giving a clear 'the fuck am I looking at' face, and the way Jon's laughing is pretty clear-cut that the message is being received. "Yep." He puts his hands behind his head, leaning back and trying to act all smooth. "The Chizz-Noal; one of the finest vacation hotels in Japan. And an expensive one at that," that sounded like a weak afterthought on my brother's part.

I look over the slip of paper again. "Why do you have this?" I'm running on autopilot. Not sure where the question came from but it was the vague thought on the tip of my mind. "What's going on?"

"We're going on vacation," Jon tells me, "partially."

Curious last choice of words. "Partially how?"

He rolls his eyes, my cynicism annoying. "Do the math. What was the first thing you read?"

Ah, I recognize that look. It was the Jon Miller famous 'you're smarter than this' look.

I flipped back to the previous page. And yep, the text is still the same.

I read it carefully still. I take a second. Then two. Then three. I might have taken somewhere between fifteen to thirty seconds before I actually found the right words to describe what I'm seeing. "You got SAO."

"I got the game." Jon was preening, looking and sounding proud of himself. Couldn't really blame him. The online sale was _very_ limited. Not sure if I recall the exact number right, but I think it was something like only 10,000 being sold in total.

BUT the limited online sale was only allowing _3,000_ purchases. Meaning, as I'm coming down from my disbelief-high, my brother managed to snag a copy of the game against an undoubtedly high-number of others on the worldwide web. Jon Miller managed to pull off something against the near-impossible odds.

I call bullshit. This has to be a dream.

" _How?"_

Jon sips his drink. "After you went to bed," he starts, "after the egging incident, I kind of started to look through the laptop for something to do. I had work in a few hours, so I thought I'd distract myself till then."

Okay.

"And you…well, you had a lot of gaming stuff up. And I do mean _a lot_. I was wondering what it was about." He gave his hand a little wave and shrugged his shoulders. "I gotta admit, it's some pretty cool stuff. That Kayaba guy," he chuckled, "I wish I had him around when I was your age. I would have been all over this stuff."

Jon hasn't done the gaming thing in years. Not since trying out for the cops.

Funny thing, I still use his old gamer tag when I play online. Mostly because I'm lazy and can't figure out a good name for a new tag to save my life. And, maybe, 'cause the only reason I game today is because Jon made it seem like the coolest thing ever. Not that I'd ever admit that.

"The game was stuck in my head," Jon continues, "and I think it was around lunch when I got the idea to get it for you." He shifted in his seat, leaning forward. "Problem was, it's only playable in Japan. And not exactly available overseas for a very long time," I knew that, and it sucked, "so getting it for Christmas was out of the question. But I was feeling bad about how that night went and… I figured I should try to fix things between us. Feels like we haven't just relaxed and hung out in forever, so I thought we could do something together."

"…So vacationing in Japan…was your masterplan?" I had to ask. As far as extremes to fixing a strained relationship go, this ranks pretty high.

"No," he gave me a look, "I was thinking we could try this 'SAO' thing. Maybe take a week to just spend away from work and school and stress and just enjoy ourselves." Jon shook his head, rubbing at his eyes, "I can't even remember the last time we went on vacation as a family. Dad's not coming till Christmas and since Mom isn't making it for Thanksgiving, I thought we could do something together. Just the two of us. Without them."

That…didn't sound terrible.

When was the last time we went out as a family? Did we go to the beach or the city? I can't even remember, which is way too sad for words.

Still, I'm skeptical. "Vacation…okay, but why _Japan?"_

Jon took a second, sending me an even odder look. "Because we have to? Part of the Argus purchasing contract: while you or I can purchase the game overseas, the company won't actually mail it to us or anything. Part of some 'limited international purchasing agreement.' We're going to have to pick it up ourselves or not at all."

"Seriously?" I did not know that. And I was about to spend some serious cash on something I couldn't even get sent overseas.

Thank you, shitty phone battery.

"Yep, 'fraid so," Jon took a long sip from his mug. "Anyway, after we patched things up on Saturday, I gave Dad a call," I totally didn't flinch at the mention of Dad, "and gave him the run of the mill on my idea. Told him it was crazy and silly, but since I don't exactly have the money for everything I wanted to do, I thought he could offer a hand to help out," Jon's smile turned a shade of embarrassed. "He gave me a bit of a talking about my less than amazing ideas. Oh boy, did he. Took me a good two hours to talk him into it."

Jon managed to convince Dad on this? That sounds almost as crazy as actually getting his hands on SAO?

"So…yeah. You might remember I spent some of yesterday on the computer," only the entire day, but who's keeping track? "I got everything settled. Hotel, plane, a map to figure out where to go – we're all set."

Jon's finger was point to the papers. I flipped through them – airport tickets, a couple printed maps, a restaurant list of sorts, the list goes on.

So…huh. This is actually happening. Or, has happened. This is real.

Words are failing me. I'm trying to keep it cool, but I kind of want to do a pent-up, sporadic happy dance right now.

"Of course, you'll be missing school for a week while we're over there. Dad wasn't too happy about that but I think you can make that up easy, right?"

No school? For a week?

Jon relaxed himself back into the chair, looking me over and taking another long sip. "So…are you okay with this?" He actually looked a little worried. Like he did something wrong. "I can probably still cancel if you want, but I thought this would just be a fun little thing for us to do. Play the game, check out the sites, do some stuff together…are you good with this?"

Jon was asking me if spending a week in a nation across the sea, checking out the land of the rising sun and playing a game I am totally okay admitting has been giving me a game-boner was cool with me? To skip school, get away from town, and just have fun without the worry of pissing anyone off.

Was I okay with this?

I'm going to let my disbelief-addled mind to take over for a bit. And the first thing it's letting me do? _Laugh._

"You-you _actually_ got the game?" I didn't need to fake the amusement/excitement in my voice. My inner-gamer is pleased. This is too funny. Too impossible. Too awesome. Too impossibly awesome. And holy crap, this is way too vivid to be a dream.

Jon Miller for MVP, declaring it now.

Speaking of, bro's finding my whole crazed laugh funny, 'cause he's doing the same. "So, you're in?"

Did he even need to ask? "Fuck yeah, I'm in!"

"Language." He points a finger at me, but the corner of his lip still made a smile. Reaching into his pocket, Jon pulls out his phone. "Alright, well, plane leaves Thursday so get everything you think you'll need into your case. Underwear, toothbrush, lucky underwear – whatever." Jon stands from the table, looking up from his phone to smile. I smile back, which is awesome 'cause I honestly can't remember feeling this excited in a long time. Full, legitimate, happy me; good to see him again. "I'll be back later. Be good and…don't do anything I wouldn't do, 'kay?"

"I can do that." Message received.

Jon's out the door a second later. Wasn't hard to see the kick in his step or the smile on his face.

I skim back through the papers again. Words are the same. Dates are the same. Everything's the same. The order, the hotel, skipping through a few of the other things – all the same.

My brother is crazy. Jon is actually, mentally insane.

Surprise vacation to Japan. That's–

My phone chimes.

 _Danny –_

 _ETAN! WAT UP?! Gtng2gther  
wth guys, wanna cum? Got TP  
an goodie bags! Hit me up_

Wow. Okay.

Aside from utterly _butchering_ the English language as we know it, in a way it won't soon recover from, the message was an easy one to get.

Danny's with the guys, he has plans to toilet paper (TP) a house, and he brought…I'm actually not sure what 'goodie bags' stand for. Could be anything: alcohol, bags of shit, unmentionable substances I wouldn't touch with a ten-foot stick. Things he, Jared, and any number of his oxygen-deprived-at-birth grouping of friends would find 'entertaining,' no doubt.

Yeah…yeah…

Fingers tight, arm back, legs squat, and I chuck that shitty phone as hard as I can. And score, it slips right between the couch cushions. Out of sight and out of mind.

Piss off, Danny. I'm still on 'probation' and things are actually starting to look up. No way am I about to fuck things now.

One last check over a few of the papers: vacation, Japan, cool video games, just me and Jon.

The hype is real. SAO, bitches.

/

 **TB – E**

/

 **Next Update : 7/20/2017**


	6. The First Day VI

Title: Two Brothers

Summary: We don't speak the language. We can't read the words. The menu is a troll. Half the time something wants to kill us and the other half is us trying to kill it. In short: Sword Art Online is the worst thing ever. OC Duo First-Person Narrative

\

 **November 4, 2022**

\

Fifteen. It takes fifteen hours to fly to Japan.

Straightaway. No stops and no delays. We step onto the plane and then we wait.

This doesn't seem to bother Ethan much; he reads his game guides, he eats, listens to music, watches in-flight movies, then reads his guides again. The last thirteen hours have been an absolute breeze for him.

What a turd.

Me? I don't do heights. Never have, probably never will. Wasn't a hard decision to let Ethan take the window seat, I can tell you that.

Every hit of turbulence, every shudder or awkward sound from the side of the plane, and my hands grab the sides of the seat and squeeze. They don't happen often but enough that falling asleep starts or focusing on anything beyond a few minutes becomes a chore. And letting the mind wander doesn't do any favors; Swiss Family Robinson, Lord of the Flies, Cast Away, Life of Pi – all wonderful shipwreck, plain crash, stranded survival stories that I really could have done without the recollection of. And when even Gilligan's Island starts to become the bane of your already deteriorating state of mind, you know you've hit rock bottom.

Or would it be sky high? Because of the plane? And we're…oh, jokes are not helping now.

Well, I still have something to do, I guess. I run my fingers through every slip of paper we've brought along. They're in the same order as I left them in the hour before, the hour before that, and the hour before that. It's tedious and about as much fun as my fourth personal game of 'I Spy' in the cramped plane, but when the world refuses to give you lemons…

Flight tickets. Hotel accommodation. A few translated maps. The game purchase orders – those were essential. I can only imagine what Ethan would do if lost them. He'd probably kill me.

I'll admit to feeling a little possessive about these sheets, myself. How long has it been – six years? I can't even remember what the last game I played was. I turned eighteen, joined the academy, and just lost track of time. More important things on my mind then skirting through the digital stuff. Ethan took up the controller and I moved on.

But now…this could be fun. Just Ethan and I, a troublesome duo of Americans, off to Japan.

We'd see if this game is worth all the trouble I've put into it, check out some sights, get a little culture in our blood.

I've always wanted to try actual Japanese sushi. I hear you can actually play with monkey at some actual 'monkey park.' And maybe I could even convince Ethan to ride up to Mount Fuji for a few hours.

Yeah. That sounds good. This could be _exactly_ what we need. Just an outing away from everything and every-

The plane's shaking.

" _Alright, ladies and gentlemen, we will be descending into the Haneda International Airport within the next hour. Do keep in mind that we may experience a little turbulence coming in but there's no reason to be alarmed. At this time, please fasten your seat belts securely as we make our way down. We hope you enjoyed your stay on United and hope to see you again soon!"_

The message repeated back in Spanish then Japanese then other languages I didn't know or care for.

We'll land in an hour. Which is good.

But the plane's still shaking.

Breath in, breath out. Breath in, breath out. Breath in, breath out. Breath in…

\

 **November 5, 2022**

\

It's dark when we land.

The plane took off around nine at night back in the states, so going off my personal timer, it should be about noon at home. But the thing about Japan is that it's thirteen hours ahead of our usual time – other side of the planet, as it were. So, by that rule, it's about one in the morning here.

I guess I should be awake, seeing how mentally it's the middle of the day for us, but with the plane keeping me up for fifteen hours in a near hyperventilated panic, I think I'm allowed a pass when I say that I can practically hear the hotel bed calling my name. At least I'm not the only one looking to take part in some sweet, sweet sleep; Ethan's barely treading along with me. He could do with something resembling sheets, a pillow and a cushion.

Well, there wasn't much need to wait on ceremony. We stretched our legs, picked our luggage, ordered a cab, and thought we'd be at the hotel in no time.

I guess I should've figured it wouldn't be that easy. See, Tokyo is a lot like New York; it didn't seem to sleep. Neon lights as far as I could see, lighting up the walkways and streets with thousands going about their business as if it were the normal day-to-day. Unreadable signs and advertisements on one building to the other, with videos and gimmicks and every conceivable show-theme I could think of. Cats, food, dancing girls, music signs – I think the only logo I could make out of this mess was McDonald's. A few things had normal English letters but most of it's Japanese. I didn't even try to figure out what any of it said; it was exhausting to just look at it.

Ethan took it better; the passing girls caught his eye and he was pleased.

That brings us to the now: two hours later, Chizz-Noal front steps. Thirty-two stories high, solid foundation, dark windowed rooms with balconies overlooking the entire Tokyo area. A real palace hotel.

The first thing to catch our eyes are the gold-plated entryway and the personal doormen. Definitely a contrast from the bright neon and crazed setup most Tokyo had, practically screaming itself to the world that 'I am different and I know it.' And oh, it's fancy. No question about it.

Ethan gives me a look, which I translated as asking if we're at the right place.

I laugh and walk ahead.

Stepping into the air-conditioned foyer was a welcome relief after the stiffness of the plane and cab. I take a second to just breathe it all in – and maybe to let my eyes adjust to the bright light. Silver fountains, gold carpets and bright crystal chandeliers make up only a small part of the foyer's high-class design. The welcoming staff is dressed just as smartly as the greeters. Neatly trimmed haircuts, pressed uniforms, each looking rather diligently at whatever station they stood waiting at. Even the man taking out the trash looked classy.

This is all way too fashionable for a couple of scrubs like us. Didn't take Einstein to tell the norm of this place is a standard way above a couple Americans in t-shirts and jeans.

We are in foreign, enemy territory. And woefully underdressed.

"How much did you spend on this place?" Ethan whispers.

Shoot, I don't even know. Dad chose the hotel, paid for it, and sent me the email telling me where to go and who to talk to. I did check it out myself and figured it was a nice enough place but…wow.

"Let's just say, we might be living off bread and water for a while…" Oh, I am too tired to even try and come up with a good joke. "Come on. Let's sign in then hit it."

The lady at the front desk is a younger woman in her late teens, maybe early twenties. She's dressed like the other staff, has her hair neatly styled in a bun, with a light bit of makeup over her face. She looks me over with a quick glance but doesn't seem to judge me for my lack of professionals.

"We'd like to check in." I tell her.

Her eyes wander down to Ethan, then back to me. "Single bed?"

Heavy accent. "Uh, no. Here," I rummage through my pocket, pulling out a folded sheet, "it's under Miller. Jonathan Miller."

Slow and carefully, she took the slip and read over its contents. "Oh, oh! Two bed! Two – _siblings!_ " Yes, we are. "My apologies! Yes, yes! I'll get right on it. Room 1031, 1031, 1031…" It takes her a minute to procure the keys to the suite. "Yes, here! The room is ready for use. Room service is on call, press nine, cleaning on seven, and channel directory on three. If you require any further assistance, press one for the front desk. If you'd like to file a complaint or express a concern, dial 2. If you'd…"

I won't remember any of this.

I take the keys, thank her quickly, then look to the nearest set of elevators. But not before I nudge Ethan in the side, dowsing the kid from his sleep-standing and pushing him in the direction of the lifts.

"Uh, I'm awake! I'm, I'm good!"

I can't even laugh at him. If I wait another minute, I'm pretty sure I'll be joining him. Only I'll probably pass out on the carpet.

Elevator. Suite. Now.

\

 **TB - J**

\

It says something when I can't even remember actually falling asleep. Says something more when I don't even remember making it into the suite.

At least, I think this is the suite. Can't really tell.

Takes me a second to figure out that it isn't because I've gone blind that I can't see anything (yet another testament to the utter exhaustion I am otherwise still feeling) and another to figure out that I am laying on something soft. Now, this is a sort of foreign feeling, 'cause my couch is not soft. It is a rough, old thing which can barely be called suitable resting furniture. It's coarse, stiff, I fall off the side at least once or twice a month, and if I'm lucky, I might get something resembling a passively pleasant sleep. It's one of those things you just get used to when your little brother takes over the bedroom.

Still, pretty sure I'm not blind. The room's just dark. And this is a bed. A really, really nice bed. Cool and smooth. Part of me really would like nothing more than to just forget the whole 'be productive on vacation' thing and just remain where I am; awkwardly laying and all. As far as my still waking mind can figure, at some point in the last twelve hours I fell on it in the most random of ways and decided that obtuse positioning worked well enough for sleeping.

I'm cool with that.

But I figure I should make sure I'm not in some dungeon or foreign laboratory or some equally benign location. So, room check: there's air-conditioning. My toes stretch out and feel some carpet below me. Can't figure out much else since the only light in the room is a small clock at the side of the bed's back, blinking a red 10:17.

It takes my eyes a minute to adjust to the low light, but I do make out a door at the far wall and struggle with my uncooperative body towards the 'freedom' from this dark room.

And…yep, this is not an evil laboratory.

This living room is easily larger than the entire apartment. And a hundred times nicer. Wide space, fine furniture, decorative pieces on the wall. Soft carpet flooring, leading to the largely marbled kitchen area outfitted with a large fridge, microwave, grill and any number of fine kitchen perks. Leading off to the dining table, a few feet off to the side, is the main window. A crystal-clear glass door, leading out to a balcony, overlooking a mountain. A rich view from where I'm standing. Definitely have to ask Dad if we sold our souls to the Devil at some point to be so lucky.

Our bags lay unceremoniously by the front door. Which is a load off my chest 'cause I wouldn't put it past my brother or I to have left them on the elevator. And there's our shoes. Two pairs, so Ethan is around here hopefully.

Turn right and there's a second door next to the one I came out of. Similar look and everything.

"Ethan?" I knock. No sound. "Ethan, you there?" I knock again.

" _Bragh-buh, guahh_."

That's him. "You doing alright?"

" _Pasin. Para-paggh…"_

Pure poetry. "Alright. Good. Well, get up when you can. We're burning daylight." If it's almost eleven here, then it would be around midnight back home. And I feel pretty darn good.

" _Brub-ah._ "

I almost want to leave it at that. But then, I'm hungry, and we have no food. "Hey, I'm thinking of ordering some breakfast," something's moving on the other side, "anything you'd like?"

" _Eggs, scrambled, sausage, medium, waffles, syrup, bacon, medium-rare, coffee, black."_

Coffee? Since when does he drink coffee? "Alright then." And again, I think about leaving it there. But a cruel, humorous thought comes to me. I can't stop my smile as I open my mouth, "Oh, and one more thing-"

" _Arrrgggghhh."_

"-Your game comes out today. The stores are opening themselves at noon." I've been listening to the news. Guys and girls have been staking out spots and places in preparation for the games release for three days now. All across Japan, outside of stores across Tokyo and beyond. Camping out and partying as if they were tailgating for the Super Bowl, waiting for its release. Police even had to be called in to watch over the crazier spots from inciting riots for front-of-the-line privileges. "I don't know how much you want your copy, but if you want to do it later, that's fine with me."

I listen through the door. No sound, no response back. Nothing, for a good five seconds.

Then, _"Uuuuuuggghh!"_ The door opens. Ethan barely acknowledges my being in his way as he brushes past, looking like he just got finished going through a ringer. "Too tired. I'm dying. Kill me."

"Cut the whining, you sound like a little girl," I might as well have been reprimanding a wall. Ethan gave a halfhearted wave in my direction before his fingers went through our bags in search of toothbrush and paste. Then, like a zombie, he aimed his half-awake body to a door on the side.

That's a closet. Takes him a good second to notice.

Aaaand that's the pantry. He figured that one quicker.

And that, that's the bathroom. I really am trying not to laugh, but between his grumbling and quiet sarcasm, it's hard. It's really, really hard. I feel like I'm smiling like a loon watching him dip finally into the facility and lock the door behind.

But now, I should find that phone. Room service…hold four, right?

\

 **TB - J**

\

We could hear it from four blocks back; the sounds, the screams, the cheers and the laughs. I imagined there would be some measure of fun to be had amongst so many interested parties in this limited attraction, but I couldn't have guessed just how much 'hype' there was.

First came the kids. With swords and shields in hand, they tussled on the edges of a much larger grouping of people, shouting battle cries and other nonsensical words. They laughed among themselves and attempted to stab themselves with the plastic things. The first physical sign that some form of excitement was happening.

Next came the carts filled and stacked with toys and gifts and clothes. Men pulled them along, trying eagerly to supply anyone with their products. White dragon fluff toys, miniature figurines from smallish skull knights to green giants, caps to jackets with the stitched lettering of 'SAO.' Gaming memorabilia, as it were.

They targeted Ethan. I couldn't make a lick of sense to whatever the men were saying, only assuming they were trying to peddle something off from their overburdened trollies. This wasn't even the main street and the harassment from sellers was strong and persistent, as if we were ignorant tourists willing to buy anything.

Ethan seemed understand as much, trying to wave them off politely but by the fourth cart-man it was obvious he wanted nothing more than to flip them 'the bird.'

He didn't, thankfully. A few overeager salesmen couldn't ruin his good mood.

Then came the heart of it all: the storefront. The streets around were cut off from cars; nothing on wheels, save the cart-men, were allowed through or around for some blocks. Stands for food, games, attractions and alike were lined across the road with only the barest sense of order to them. Cotton candies, deep-fried meats, sodas and alcohols. Ring toss, bird shooters, disk drops and more. Cultural booths with handcrafted masks, folding fans, kites made to look like birds or mythical creatures and whatnot. It became apparent that this game-selling event had become something of a marketable festivity and everyone was getting into the mood.

Thinking on it now, I wonder if it's like this at every store carrying a copy of the game. Just one large party for everyone around. Thousands of gamers and nerds, waiting patiently for a chance at the big prize, while groups of unaffiliated men and women come together for some relaxing Saturday festivities.

I imagine it just might.

But the main attraction, separated from the rest of the fun, was 'The Line.' A title bequeathed by Ethan to the lengthy and long segment of men and women standing off to the sidewalk.

Tents were stitched, small grills burned and sizzled as men made food for any number of friends and associates beside them. The large number waited by the store's front with increasing anxiety as the seconds passed, looking almost tempted to say 'screw the time, I want my game' and rush the store in mass. Were it not for the small number of uniformed men standing by, looking somewhat imposing and uncompromising in their features, I dare say the store would be without windows or doorway by now.

I wasn't sure if this was the cultural exchange I was expecting to get…but, we got some time before the doors open up, so…

"Wanna give that a shot?" I point to the stand where grown men and kids picked up small toy pellet guns and aimed them towards a group of cardboard dragons moving up and down the stand with red bullseye marks painted to their chests. A simple game, with small to large prizes hanged overhead, enticing anyone to try their luck for the chance to pick up a fluffy blue boar or crazy looking plant monster.

Ethan followed my finger. "Oh, hell yeah." He said with barely hidden delight. And oh, that look in his eye.

"Language…" I scold in vain. He's already halfway towards the stand and looking almost murderously at the targets.

Ha. Dork.

\

 **TB - J**

\

Four pellet games, a weirdly long-eared rabbit prize win, three 'dango' sticks, an odd number of 'takoyaki,' 'shioyaki,' and 'ikayaki' (lotta yakis) later, and we're by the store.

I'll skip the superfluous details on the grand opening. There was cheering, shouts, and the watching of a giant clock someone brought in which rang and cheered like the world's most important alarm clock the moment its numbers hit noon. There was some uproar and a few attempts to move others forward ahead of their place and snag a copy for themselves, where the police then moved to settle the commotion. The crowds gave a few hurrahs at the spectacle, the pushy stopped pushing, and it was all put back under control as quickly as it started.

Nothing really worth mentioning beyond that.

It would have been a waste of time to jump right into The Line. It was filled five blocks back. No, I managed to convince the persistent brother of mine to hold back and let the numbers thin out. Benefits of being a very lucky online grabber, I didn't have to waste my time among the stationed and unmoving populous.

But as it turns out, we didn't have to wait as long as I thought. The Line barely thinned before someone within the store jumped out, yelling something I couldn't make out to those standing outside, though I had a guess just what was being said.

The effect was as I imagined it might have been; the Line's expressions turned south. Real south.

"I'm guessing they just ran out," Ethan said with a mouth full of something-yaki. "Sucks for them." Couldn't disagree. Three days waiting just to get the short straw? I'd be upset. "We getting in line yet?" Impatient as always, he looked almost like he was trying to rip the crowd apart with his mind.

The Line was already starting to break. Slow and without any real sense of hurry. An obvious sense of failure and disappointment on too many faces to count.

Comparing them, my brother looked like a candle in a dark room.

He waits, watching me as I wonder what's the best move to make. Really, I wouldn't mind checking out more stalls or running somewhere to exchange some cash for the Japanese dollar – yon or yang or something. We could wait a little while, just to let the disappointed move on, then go in ourselves. His copy would be here when we got back and frankly I wasn't too keen on heading back to the hotel just yet. Get some fresh air, see more of Japan, check out the local whatever.

But Ethan's impatient. Always has been. And he's already halfway through the crowds, gone from my side before I could even register the missing teen's disappearance and closing in on the store.

Probably didn't even care that I'm the one who has the slips needed to get the game in the first place; just figured I'd follow like a good dog.

What a turd.

\

 **TB - J**

\

" _Tsugi!"_

That's about as close as I can guess to whatever the clerk at the counter is shouting, waving his hand over his head to the people behind the older man he served.

Said man, maybe in his late fifties, gave the server a quick nod before moving to the side to allow a father and his kid to greet the store figure politely. The kid, probably not much older than six or seven, waved and wiggled as his parent held his hand, looking almost ready to pee himself as he watched his father pass the store man some paper.

Three more.

Ethan's not doing much better than the kid. "Hurry up," he growls, "come on. The crazy lady next door moves faster than him!"

We've been in line for maybe four minutes. I'm thinking that's three more than Ethan would have otherwise liked to wait.

The server came back from the room behind him. The father's papers in hand with a colorfully designed case in the other. The kid went berserk as his father took the items back then passed the game down to the boy.

Jesus, that giggling. Might've thought he'd just won Christmas.

" _Tsugi!"_

A red-haired woman this time.

Two more.

I weave my fingers into my jeans. Just to make sure.

Front right pocket? Folded paper still there.

Good.

Back left pocket? More paper, all there.

Everything's good.

" _Tsugi!"_

A rough-looking man moves ahead and, like everyone before, hands a slip to the clerk.

The last one.

"Hey," I lean over and whisper, "did you remember to grab the papers before we left?"

Oh, that put some panic in him. He looked ready to rip me to pieces before the smile gave me away. Now, it just earned me one of the dirtiest looks to ever grace Ethan's feature to be pointed my way. Still worth it.

"Hey, did you remember you're a dick?" He elbowed me in the side. I couldn't hold back the laughs, reaching into the front of my jeans to pass him the necessary paper. He took it with a roll of the eyes then turned his focus back as the man behind the counter delivered a large, square NerveGear box and a game copy to the waiting woman.

She bowed out quickly.

" _Tsugi!"_

Ethan practically shoved the slip into the clerk's hand before the word even left his lips. I don't think his demand could have been any clearer; he wanted what was written, and he wanted it _now._

So, of course, the worker gave it a long once over. Looking over the details carefully as if it were some great read which needed deep thought and analysis for, dragging out the examination and leaving Ethan to fidget. 'What if there's some mistake?' His face read easily. 'What if this is fake?'

He's just anxious. Can't really blame him. That's a tall, expensive order he just passed along. Even I feel a little worried that something might be called on it.

But there seemed to be nothing to it. The man behind the counter nodded, offering up a smile to placate Ethan before disappearing to the backroom. My brother, all the while, watched like a starving animal watches its prey, slow and methodical, until he was out of sight.

Then he turned back to me. And that smile…

I raise my hand. "We got it."

"Yeah, we did!" He laughs, giving me the high-five to trump all high-fives before moving to do a little shimmy of his own. Where everyone before (save the kid) looked appreciative to receive their grand prize, Ethan was the only one who looked literally about ready to happy dance his way back to the hotel. Rows of pearly white teeth, funny little moves, and a bit of quick footwork to boot – even the guys behind us seemed to find his delight entertaining.

I don't often pat my own back when I think I've done good, but…I think I earned it. Not even in Japan for twelve hours and Ethan's smiling like I haven't seen for a long time.

This is great. This is really, really great.

"Dōzo," the clerk has returned, and he comes bearing gifts. Two large boxes under each arm and in-between his fingers, a pretty little case with some fancy text scrolled on the front.

Our prizes.

I could appreciate it, even as it was dropped into a plastic bag and handed over. Saying my brother took it gladly would be a gross understatement. Like a man drowning, Ethan held onto it as if it were a life raft. I don't even think Dad could have ripped it from him. The teen was in love.

"I got the goods. You take the boxes, 'kay?" I looked to the large boxes left on the counter. My position has been upgraded to pack mule.

" _Tsugi!"_

Ethan steps away from the counter. He's smiling like a nutjob and practically caressing the bag, carrying it in his arms like it's a newborn. It's a little over a mile back to the hotel and I don't think for a second that bag will be out of his sight for a foot of it.

"Wait, wait! I'm not done yet!" I don't imagine this will take as long or be as expectant as Ethan's moment, but I'll admit I'm a little excited myself, reaching over to pass the slip from my back pocket over the counter. With admittedly a bit more effort to seem less desperate or forceful than my brother.

The clerk reaches over and unfolds the sheet. He gives me a look. Surprise or maybe curiosity at what I just handed him. Not sure why, it wasn't that much different then Ethan's, minus the NerveGear piece. But, thankfully, he doesn't make it awkward and instead moves quickly to backroom once again.

We wait. Patiently, at least on my end. Maybe I should have slipped my sheet in with Ethan's, but I figured I'd let him have his moment. Isn't that what kids and teens like? To feel they're the ones who are doing things without parental (or, in my case, older sibling) guidance?

I smile to him as we wait. He doesn't smile back. He just sort of stares at me like the clerk.

Haven't a clue why and I don't have to wait for long. But the worker comes back a moment later, hands me my copy with a smile, and leaves it at that.

" _Tsugi."_

"Here, take this," I tell Ethan, popping his bag open just enough to slip the slender case down with his. "You're carrying the goods, right?" I can't help but laugh at my own dumb joke, happy for a mission success halfway across the world, before moving the two large boxes and allowing a younger-looking teen to step past and address the counter. Heavy things that they are, it takes me a second to comfortably adjust them so that one's not poking me in the gut during the walk back. "Alright, you ready?" I make for the door. Takes me a second to notice Ethan's not following. "Uh, Ethan? You okay?"

He's not smiling anymore. He just stands there, staring. Can't ever guess what's going through that head of his.

"…You got the game, too?" I just manage to hear him. It's not a large store or a busy one, but the few customers who are still around to pick up their copies are loud enough to make hearing his whisper not the easiest thing in the world.

Still, I manage. And that's a weird question. "Yeah, I did," I tell him. "I thought we could try it together. You know, double-team the Aincrad and stuff. Dragons and quests and brotherly-duo stuff." He still has a weird look. Why? Because I got a copy? I'm sure I already told him I was gonna play too, right? I must have. It's been almost a week, no way I couldn't have told him…right? "I mean, we bought two helmets. Didn't you read that?" See? Not my fault he didn't catch that. Totally not guilty here. I mean, what else would I use the helmet for? Biking? Still, Ethan's eyes were wide and looking absolutely dumbfounded. "You okay? Did I do something wrong?"

"No," He answers quickly. I'll just take that as a yes, "No, I just…I mean, how did…?" I think he's trying to form words. Somethings got him confused, no question of that.

He shifts his eyes away from me and down to the bag in his arms, checking over the games again for a long moment before letting out a long, almost tired laugh. "Damn it, man. How did you...?" He laughs a little louder. "You're one lucky son of a bitch. Do you have any idea how stupid this all is? You should've bought a lottery ticket or somethin'…"

Lucky? Me? Yeah right.

" _Language._ " I would have given him a look but with how he's just laughing and shaking his head like he'd just been told a really good joke, I'll let it pass. Not sure what the joke I missed is, but I feel I'm the butt of it.

Why? Haven't a clue.

Still, Ethan heads to the door. I follow. Still not sure what's so funny or why I'm lucky, but I'm not complaining.

He looks happy. And that's not a bad thing.

\

 **TB - J**

\

 **Author's Note: We're almost there, guys! Almost there!**

 **Next Update:** **7/23/2017**


	7. The First Day VII

Title: Two Brothers

Summary: We don't speak the language. We can't read the words. The menu is a troll. Half the time something wants to kill us and the other half is us trying to kill it. In short: Sword Art Online is the worst thing ever. OC Duo First-Person Narrative

/

 **TB – E**

/

Alright, here's how it is:

Three-thousand copies of Sword Art Online were sold on October 31st. This was to be a controlled, managed sale. As such, for a lucky three-thousand, every guy or girl would only be allowed to buy one copy of the game.

Only one.

I might have missed the whole 'no international exporting' rule hidden in the fine print, but that 'you-are-only-allowed-to-grab-one-copy-of-Sword-Art-Online' instruction was pretty obvious when they blare it in big, bold letters on their homepage. Can't miss something like that and not be called out on it.

Still, grabbing a single copy would be tricky. Online or otherwise, as those unlucky in The Line could vouch for. It was probably closer to impossible through the online mean – our internet is shit and our devices are living testaments to a craptastic age in digital gadgetry.

But even still, Jon managed to snag one.

No, wait, gotta rephrase. He snagged _**two**_.

Fucking. _Two_.

I'm pretty sure the math is off here, but I think that means he wasn't just a lucky one-in-three-thousand. Double the prize…two-in-three-thousand? One-in-fifteen? Fuck math, he's lucky, end of story. Even the clerk and the guys behind us thought so. One guy even looked ready to call foul. Maybe even start a riot. Only thing that probably held him back was that Jon could have probably ripped him in two if he wanted. He's kind of a big dude, not someone to casually fuck with.

But back to subject: how did I not know this?

Seriously, I read the order. One SAO game, that's all. Okay, two Nerves, but that's…he could have just wanted one himself. A really expensive, high-tech helmet. For decorative purposes…or a paperweight…it's possible! Or he could have wanted to play the game on his own helmet! Peruse Aincrad singular…whenever that is that I would let him…which, if this game is as awesome as the crowds, reviews, and videos seem to illustrate, might not be any time this week-

No, no. It's not my fault. Jon hid the second order. Had to. I seriously doubt I mixed the second order this entire week as the first, failing to notice the two sheets differences by my lack of observation. That would be just silly. Impossible. Hell, one didn't even have the same orders (namely two large gaming headsets) as the other. It's so damn obvious.

I couldn't have made a mistake. Definitely. Extremely or, at least, very unlikely.

I'm not that dense. I can't be. It had to be hidden.

Probably. Possibly. Maybe.

Fifty-fifty?

Meh, doesn't matter. Was someone, who shall not be named, naïve and unobservant? Conceivably. Was someone, who shall not be named, sneaky and nefarious and an otherwise humongous dick to their younger brother? Who's to say? Point is, everything ended fine and dandy and honestly way better than I thought they would.

Because seriously, TWO COPIES. That's…TWICE AS MANY AS ONE!

I probed Jon as to how he managed to pull a fast one to the whole one-buy only rule in the first place. Apparently putting different names into the purchaser box is a good place to start. Then having two devices with the SAO homepage up and running is also a perfectly legal and viable option. Laptop being the first device, as I already guessed that. And the second, his cell phone. Mr. Obnoxious Wakeup Alarm itself. The irony of Jon's phone standing tall and successful in that important moment is not lost to me. Still need to flush my own damn thing, now that I think of it…

Anyway, won't hold up for much longer. We got the stuff, walked the way back to the hotel, unpacked everything, and now are in the midst of performing the most _sacred_ and _holy_ of rituals pertaining to every great video game in history…

Reading the installation manuals.

/

 **TB – E**

/

"…Remember to insert the battery cord…into a proper outlet…and allow to charge for up to twenty hours…for proper battery fill." Jon one of those guys that like to read everything with a skeptical eye that would make a lawyer proud. He doesn't want to miss the finer, boring details.

"Just plug it in already…" He's already plugged mine in. Took a nightmarish amount of time just to do that. And then, somewhere in that head of his, my brother assumed his device must be so radically different then my own that he needed to read the set-up, basic rules, advisement, and standard procedure sections of the NerveGear installation manual _again_.

So here we are: an hour later and we have _finally_ got the damn things hooked up and charging.

"…Be sure not to remove helmet…from connected power strip until…'POW' label is lit green…"

His helmet is sitting next to mine. Both 'POW' labels are glowing red. Charging, I guess.

"NerveGear devices will connect to…to Argus orbital devices upon first opening…no additional installation practice required." Thank God, I'm sure I'd be sitting here till midnight trying to convince him the internet was fine if it weren't for that snippet. "And if you have followed these instructions-"

"Then your NerveGear should be ready for use in twenty to twenty-one hours. Yes, great, let's go." I've been waiting an hour to get to the best part. I've earned this! Jon taking an hour to set up something almost pre-handled in the box is driving me batshit!

"I'm just trying to be safe, okay?" Jon defends himself. "This is expensive hardware. We have to be careful and make sure we handle everything with a certain…"

Yeah, I'm just gonna block out that lecture.

With the helmets brushed to the side, all that remains are a pair of sweet-looking cases and the laptop.

And this is where the good stuff comes in. But for the love of all that is good and pure and gaming, Jon must love to hear his voice.

"Okay. Yeah, cool, I get it." Oh, the half-assed responses are strong with me. "But, uh, can we, you know, move on? Today?" I point to the games. Only way I could have been more obvious is if I rubbed the cases to his face, screaming to do more important things.

I'm a teenager, I'm allowed to be impertinent. And I'm not waiting anymore, that plastic has to go.

It might just be my imagination, just a little, but I swear I'm seeing a bit of golden dust and light as I open the thing. Some angels singing in the background, I think the sun is shining just a little brighter through the balcony doors, and does the world just seem to have just calmed down even just a little? This single disk. Circular and reflective and stuff. So majestic, much wow. I could write poetry.

"Ethan, you're drooling." It's, it's just beautiful, okay? If there's one thing to be happy about being born in this day in age, it's that I get experience this! No one can judge me, I have a right to be enthusiastic! "Shoot, if looks could kill – alright, put the game in, let's see what we're dealing with."

Oh, right. Time for the best part.

I pull the laptop to me, pressing the side as the CD port opens before slipping the game in.

See, SAO is sort of funny. Because of the general specifications within the game, including modeling and general FullDive workings that allow for full sensory connections to the user, the NerveGear does not supply the design protocols to build one's character. In other words: you cannot use the helmet to make your character. Something about 'limited spec control' or some other fancy words. You need a computer, desktop or, in our case, laptop to create the SAO avatar.

The full design capabilities, details, specifics and requirements will tie into an ID account to log in once the servers officially start running. Input the ID, wait a few moments, and I'll be in the character (or, essentially, I'll _become_ the character (not sure what that's gonna feel like, but sink or swim it should be fun). To design the avatar, however, requires a system suited much easier to the design function then the NerveGear. Preferably, something with a mouse and keyboard.

 **ID ACCOUNT: XXXXXXXXXX  
ID PASSWORD: XXXXXX**

Takes the computer a moment to pass the game's data through the software. The ID pops up, but I don't need to remember it. The game will input the code into the NerveGear once the game is playable-

 _Time until: 22 hours, 32 minutes_

-and our FullDiving privileges would be permitted (should I be counting down the seconds? I feel like I should be counting down the seconds).

The codes fade and up pops a mannequin. A pair of mannequins, actually; one obviously male and the other female. They stand on two platforms, like those ones at malls you see everywhere. There's definitely a stature and pose to them which suggests they are meant to be seen heroically or as valiant figurines. Music starts to play, a familiar toon like the one SAO's homepage starts when you log on. A fierce, light, medieval theme which I can't help but appreciate to a greater scale now that I have the game. I can be sentimental like that.

"Boy, girl," Jon looks over my shoulder. Didn't even see him move beside me. "Choose your gender. Do you want to be a boy or girl?"

As obvious a first-choice question for an RPG character design page, this is a good start.

The implication that I could play as a girl aside, I'm mostly a to-my-gender kind of player. Feels weird to play as a girl – hundred times more when there's romance options involved.

Easy decision. I'm a dude intending to play as a dude avatar.

I mouse over the naked man. Boop.

The page shifts and twists, looking all fancy and digital as if I made some monumental decision. The woman figure disappears, fading away in an animation which looked vaguely like the animations when you killed a monster, pixels of bluish-green and white. Did that suggest I killed her? Ha, I'm a murderer and I haven't even PK'd yet.

Then the male mannequin got an upgrade. From the toes up, the once pale and featureless figure started to develop some character.

First came the boots; a light brown leather. Then the pants, a dark-hued blue. A shirt of pale white color which stretched out to the wrists, where tanned skin flaked over the hollowed and lifeless fingers before. Then, the face; the skin came first, same tone as the hands and fingers, but then it started to take depth with the nose, the lips, the eyes and brows, with a bit of short hair coming last and washing over the man's brows and sides.

I couldn't help but stare at him. Lifelike, for one. And when the transformation finished, the figure shifted in his spot, looking down at himself, testing his fingers, as if the avatar just came to life itself.

Detailed. Very detailed.

"Very nice," Jon compliments, "scroll over something."

I willingly follow that instruction.

First, I mouse over the shirt. Click. And to the side, up pops a bar full of scrollable options and digits. Doesn't take long to figure out that these are options for altering the character, as the avatar is highlighted entirely in a kind of whiteish glow. Takes a little longer to work out what each might or could do.

Japanese. Every little word is Japanese.

FYI, I can't read this.

"Try messing with one of those," Jon points to one of the scrolls. Could have done it on my own, but I follow through anyway.

I click on one then shift the mouse far right.

Whoa, my avatar just got a load of obesity.

The second the scroll started to move, the hips, arms, legs and everything in-between started to widen and expand. His cheeks looked like they were filled with food and the rest of him looked ready to burst at any second. The good avatar still managed to look chipper even with the impending idea that he might pop like a balloon at any second.

That got a laugh outta me. Jon too.

"Alright," Jon tried, bringing in his amusement, "now, to the left."

Slide to the lef-holy crap, now he's Jared.

"O-kay, so that's weight," I deduce. Damn, I wonder how it would play as either 'tons-of-fun' or 'skinny-like-I-haven't-eaten-in-a-year' Ethan. Could I roll down a hill and smash my enemies with my tremendous mass? Or would the skinniness strike fear into the enemies who gazed upon my anorexic ass.

The thought amuses me.

"Well," Jon starts, "it certainly offers some options to work with." Hell yeah, it does. "Okay then…experiment a little."

Oh, you don't have to tell me.

/

 **TB – E**

/

Three hours. Three hours of messing around, toggling the controls and fumbling with every piece of design I could get my wicked little fingers on.

I've now created my monster.

I'm being somewhat literal here. This was all done intentionally, I tell Jon, who looks like he wants to smack me for what I've created.

And I can't really blame him if he did; I definitely created the perfect demonstration of horror this day, and am proud to admit it.

It started as a joke. Made the character a foot taller than I was, give him skin that looked like it hadn't seen the light of day in years, skinny that I could almost wrap my fingers around his neck without issue, and worked on the more terrible traits after.

SAO's character design is pretty in-depth. I chose a shirt and pants tone of color which looked just right to make my character look like he'd worn this semblance of clothing for years and was stained with grime and mud. That alone is eye-catching.

Then I went to the feet. Going barefoot is an option; the legs under are ghostly pale and, after a few tweaks, almost sinister. Predatorial, even. I wondered how it would all feel in game and if I could stub my toes or feel the grass under me.

I figured out the finger controls and learned how I could extend them to beyond the normal lengths, now giving me the equivalency of talons. No fingernail editor, though. Can't make me some claws (game sucks, gets a 7.8 out of 10, needs more design features).

Hair came next. There were plenty of pallets of full, lengthy streams to pick from but the ones which caught my eye were next to the bald features. Hair which looked perfect with the crypt-walker I've invented; single and deformed strands which only just looked as if they were keeping with the thing's head. The nose was easier; pushed it in so far inward that it looked like I barely had nostrils. After that came the eyes. Narrowed, white, without irises and sharp. Really aimed for the 'I'm looking into your soul' look. Would have liked a mouth design feature, but it seemed standard one was for everyone. Would have liked some fangs and stuff, but I guess I'll just have to wait for SAO 2 for that.

Add in some aesthetic effects – some scars on the face and body, dirt and grease to make it all look unclean – and alright. Now I have thoroughly made me a monster.

And what a truly horrifying creature, it is.

Holy crap, how did I do this? I just messed with toggles as severely as I could. Put them to extremes or harsh settings. Had to figure out what half of them did, first, but I think the end result is certifiably terrifying that even looking at him is like looking at an abomination of nature which probably would have been stoned in the early medieval years as a witch's creation or a spawn of the devil.

To me, he's perfect.

Okay, usually I'd want to create something commendable. Appreciable. Especially with this being a limited offered game and one online to boot. Something that wouldn't haunt the minds or dreams of children. But I couldn't resist.

Behold, the glory that is…someone.

Yeah. Someone. Still need to name him.

"Well," Jon speaks up behind him, lifting a bottle of water he pulled from the fridge to his lips and taking a long sip as he looks over my shoulder to the monstrosity, "you've outdone yourself. I think you've created the first playable abomination to step on Aincrad. Congratulations, I didn't know you had it in you."

Oh, Jon's giving me sass. Two can play that game.

"Doth my ears detect jealousy behind thy lips?" Look at me with the fancy words. Getting my Shakespeare on. "Behold! The majesty of this nameless thing! Behold the terribleness and fury! The cruelty I shall bring to Aincrad shall be the thing of legends." Let evil laugh flow freely past lips. And for the finale: "All shall love me and _despair!"_ Nothing says awesomeness like mixing in a little movie reference to really sell it all forward.

But the image of my monster could have been more terrifying if it weren't looking so happy and cheerful as he had when he first popped on screen. Like a kid waking up on Christmas. Sort of ruined the terror and intimidation factor I was aiming for when it looked like it wanted to give me a hug.

I can practically sense Jon's eyeroll. "Is it my turn yet?" He asks. "I want to give this a shot before the week is up."

Oh, come on! It's only been a few hours. A character's design can never be rushed. Every gamer, save the filthy casuals, know this.

"Fine," I groan. "Where's do I go?"

Quick look over the screen shows an arrow button easy enough to see. A scroll over it shows it lighting up a brighter green.

Click.

My monster avatar cheers and waves as it disappears from view, sliding to the left of the screen. Unusually chipper abomination is oddly adorable, it seems.

Anyway, a new panel pops up. And this one is significantly easier to understand. Partially because I read up on it. It was one of the more aggressive articles to read on, and definitely the one I got the most interest for.

 _Weapon Choice._

/

 **TB – E**

/

See, a sweet thing about Sword Art Online is that you are not limited to just a basic sword as your starting tool.

From the BETA Player reads, I got you could choose a weapon coordinated to your style of play that you wanted and develop skills and abilities through that item as time goes on. Apparently, it takes an insane amount of time to level up weapon skills, even for the hardcore BETAs, but that holds a level of appeal to me. Wouldn't want the game to be over too soon or anything.

The weapons available are numerous and varied. Each has their specialty to certain enemies, playstyles, or player preference.

Choose wisely.

Swords are the most basic. Good range, good power, good attack. Not really a weapon that excels or fails at anything. It's the first option to pop up on screen and even if I can't read the Japanese text at the side, the measurements and features seem to suggest by color coding that this weapon is of a normal standard for basic or new players. Probably even has info on what it's best suited for in the way of enemies. Comes with a side option for curved swords, which are kinda like scimitars or such. Better cutting power at the loss of any potential piercing ability. Better to lighter armored enemies.

I skip the swords and scroll down.

The spear. One of the best weapons in terms of range. I saw a few online players using it. They've got good critical features and can stun if they hit an enemy just right. They can also be used with shields, so if I want to go full spartan on someone, I could. The downsides are that the damage isn't great and it's parrying abilities are understandably limited without a shield. And from what I've seen, it's best used with players in groups who could work together and form a shield wall to attack and press back enemies. A more defensive tool used with a much-needed shield to play.

An option, but there are more.

Rapier. Like the sword, it has a similar good length to it. Lacks the slashing ability the sword has, making it less useful in that regard to certain enemies, but it's critical and stabbing abilities can make it very valuable. Plus, its speed isn't too bad either. Less combo options, however, and its defensive points aren't that of a sword either. Use with caution and speed. Recommended for more nimble or elegant players.

Axes. One of the few two-handed weapons available at the start of the game. Offers high-tier damage. Solid defense breaking. Not much defense or speed, though. But a solid hit can make all the deference. Preferably used with those in heavier or stronger armor classes to make up for its difficult parrying abilities.

Hammers or maces. Very similar to axes. Two-handers. Not as much damage, but better defense breakers. Better speed and defense to axes, too. But not much. I can almost imagine myself falling into an act with my avatar, skinny thing that it is, running around with a bloodstained axe in my hands, jumping on unsuspecting teams and mutilating them for the shits and giggles.

I'll just put that on my avatar' bucket list for now.

There are more options. Estocs, some polearms, other weapons shown to just wet the interest of the players but aren't readily available at the start of the game (katanas, greatswords, lances, whips) and such. No ranged weapons allowed in SAO. It's all hand-to-hand, blunt or bladed arms. No magic or such. That got some gripe online, for those who wanted to see our 'lord and savior' Kayaba handle magic online, but whatever. Guy can't do everything. Besides, if he makes a sequel, that leaves him with a few hooks. Dude knows how to PR.

Now, all these weapons are fine and dandy but only one really catches my eye. The one which will probably before long be declared the most troublesome and difficult of weapons in Aincrad. One only a few players on the net have used during the BETA release but have some compelling prospects to it that make me want to take a look at and see just what it's like to use.

I speak of the one, the only, the dagger.

/

 **TB – E**

/

"A knife?"

"Yeah."

"You're going with the knife?"

"Dagger, technically."

"Really?

"Yep."

"Why?"

"In Sword Art Online, the dagger has the shortest reach of any weapon and its attack power is below most others. Its defensive skills are near crap. During the BETA plays, anyone using it had to get up close with a monster, and it turns out most things do not like to be stabbed in game. They retaliate violently, resulting in a LOT of death early on. It makes the weapon a real risk to use without much in the way of actual returns, unless your partied with others with different weapon sets. And this is true, at least on paper. The dagger is a tough weapon, but it offers something in exchange for its crappy stats: its critical. Daggers crit like a champ and do so _a lot_. It's faster than any other weapon and doesn't weigh you down. Get a combo going and don't get nicked by anyone and you pretty much have the SAO equivalent of a DPS weapon. If you want to chop someone's health to itty-bitty pieces in no time flat, the dagger is the weapon to choose."

My inner-nerd begged to speak. I had to let it. Anyone in my shoes could understand that feel.

I basically read the online forums description of SAO's dagger. Even Jon looks impressed. I did that all in one breath – props. "That…actually sounds pretty cool." Even Jon admits it. Crazier still, he understood what I was saying. I'm so proud of him. "But that sounds kinda hard. Why not go with the sword and change up later? I mean, aren't swords cool?"

No. No they are not. Everyone and their grandpas will be using them. I refuse to be part of a majority statistic. "What's wrong with a little challenge?" And that.

"Nothing, nothing. I just…eh, if you want-"

"Plus, have you seen my guy?" I can't help but interrupt. "Imagine it: me, carrying a long, serrated knife around the floors. Cutting up boys and girls, left and right, laughing like a loon in the moonless night. I'd be the terror from the bottom floors to the top!"

Maybe I'd even make a guild out of it. Hunting everyone down, scaring the bejeebers out of kids to adults. Oh, I am going to have so much fun when this game gets released back home.

Jon's staring at me. "You know, you're a little bloodthirsty…" All I can do is smile. That doesn't seem to calm him. "And absolutely nuts. Okay, what's next?"

Ah, right, he wants a go.

Easy enough to move forward from here. Click a little icon that looks like it's asking if this is my choice, click it, click the positive in what I guess is the Japanese equivalency of 'are you sure?' and…

Another popup.

This one is rather simple. A square box with two clickable option boxes inside it. A bit of text is overhead both boxes – Japanese, again, no hope in reading that – but the option on the right catches my eye.

English. The word and the letters. English.

Not sure what this is about, but I click it.

 _Character Name:_

Ohhh, name time! That's something to get excited about!

Apart from looks, the name makes the character. You can half-ass a face anytime, but a name? Names have presence. People recognize you by your name, even if the face is a mystery. So, while a certain part of me is screaming for 'Mr. McShivUrButt, Dark Corn-Muncher of Aincrad,' I'm going to politely decline that part of me.

"You got one picked out yet?" Jon asks innocently enough.

Problem is, I've had months to wonder, hypothetically, what name I would go with if I ever got to play this game. And, yeah, once this whole escapade was becoming a reality, I considered a little more over what kind of character I'd be. What choices or playstyle would appeal to the aggressive kind of gamer I am.

Choosing to go the dagger route was easy. Like me a challenge. Making a monster of a character was fun. But the name?

Shit, what would be my name?

 _McShivUrButt. McShivUrButt. McShivUrButt. McShiv-_

No.

"You don't have a name?"

"Give me a sec," I tell him, "I got to choose a good one."

"Just put in your own name."

"No one does that. It's lame." Who names their character after themselves? You play games to be other people, not yourself. "I need to pick a name that works with my avatar. The name makes the character. The monster that is to be me." Don't I sound so wise?

"Just go with, I don't know…Jason Voorhees."

What? No, I'm not doing that! How lame would that be? "I don't do hockey masks."

"Frankenstein."

"My avatar doesn't have green skin." I know because it wouldn't let me alter skin tones beyond the basics.

"Freddy Krueger."

"Not a chance." Guy who pops up in your dreams to kill you? Yeah, SUPER scary.

"…How about 'It?'"

That's…not too bad.

It. Plague of Aincrad. Has a nice ring to 'it' (ha, punny).

I type it in. The screen has a loading symbol on it for a moment.

 _ **CHARACTER NAME IS ALREADY IN USE BY ANOTHER PLAYER**_

Crap. "Already taken."

"Ah, fine. Then…uh…I don't know. What's your name in the games you play back home? The ones you play right now?"

What, like the ones I play on console? "I don't play many RPGs." More of an FPS online player.

"Then what do people call you when you're playing against others?" Jon's question is innocent enough, but the implications are almost funny.

What do people call me online? Whatever my gamer tag is. "WickedPlayer76."

"…Seriously?" He can't hold back his laugh. "Jesus, that's terrible." It was your name, dumbass! "Alright, good. Choose that."

Fuck no, I'm not going with that. Who wants to have numbers in their name? "Not a chance!"

"Uh, you're a pain in the – fine. Uh…Wicked. Try Wicked. That may work."

…Ehh, not as good as 'It,' but whatever.

Wicked. The Pale Scourge of the Upper Floors. I could sell that.

 _ **CHARACTER NAME IS ALREADY IN USE BY ANOTHER PLAYER**_

Son of a-, "No sell."

Jon's groan echoes in the room. "See? This is what happens when you take too long to make a character." Spoken like someone whose lost his faith in gaming. Blasphemer.

My brother stares for a moment at the screen. He has one of those 'one-thousand-thoughts-a-second' kind of looks to him. Maybe even he's trying to get into the spirit of the name game.

"Name…name…monster name…Pumpkinhead. Pinhead. Swamp Thing." Wow. Jon knows his horror genre. "Ghostface. Leatherface. Chucky. The Boogeyma-ohhh…" He stops himself. A long, distant look takes over the stern, calculating one. Like one of those 'I've had one of the best epiphanies ever' kind of faces I've seen on TV.

Jon's eyes turn back to the screen. 'Wicked' blinks back to us. "Boogeyman…" He suddenly reaches over my shoulder, brushing his finger over keys I can't see. I am currently blinded by two-hundred pounds of older brother currently in my face. All I can hear is a pair of loud taps of keys being struck, followed by a soft laugh from the ass reaching over me.

I was about wrestle for my freedom when Jon decided then to move off of me. Could practically feel my lips moving to call him out on that shit he just pulled, but my eyes catch his face. If that look wasn't the absolute definition of _smug,_ I don't know what is.

"There. See if it works. Thank me later."

He leaves for the kitchen, probably to grab more water, leaving me to judge just what kind of dumb name he put up.

 _Character Name:_

 __ __ _ **Wick**_ ___

/

 **TB – E**

/

Wick. _Wiiiick._ Boogeyman – Baba Yaga.

Wick. The Boogeyman of Aincrad. PKing everyone with everything from greatswords to pencils.

"Okay, yeah," I'll admit it, "that, that works. That definitely works." I can hear Jon laugh in the kitchen, yelling his self-praises. I'm not one to steal names from other movies, feels like a copout when picking a name for a character, but fuck it, this one is almost too good. "Hold onto your butts."

I click enter. It only takes a sec.

 _ **NAME AVAILABLE. WOULD YOU LIKE TO PROCEED?**_

 _ **YES – NO**_

Hell yes.

The computer takes a moment. Another loading screen.

The abomination of my making – the now bequeathed avatar known as _Wick_ – appears. He does a little cheer, which really contrasts the look I was aiming for him, before a small belt wraps itself to his waist. A leathery pocket, fitted with a short handle, clearly shown at Wick's left.

Wick pulls the small handle. The dagger flies out, raised to the sky where a beacon shines down onto him.

Then he fades. And wonderful music begins to play.

 **CONGRATULATIONS ON THE CREATION OF YOUR CHARACTER!  
DO BE SURE TO LOG IN THIS NOVEMBER 6** **TH** **AT 13:00 IN  
PREPARATION FOR THE GRAND OPENING OF THE WORLD  
OF AINCRAD!**

 **WELCOME,** **WICK** **! MAY YOUR HERO'S JOURNEY BEGIN TODAY!**

Oh, I think I may have peed a little.

"Did it work?" Jon asks, moving up beside him. He probably could hear the music fine, but no harm in asking. He reads over my shoulder. "Awesome. Looks like you're ready."

"Yeah." I nod, still a little lightheaded. "Guess I am."

"Great. Now scoot over, it's my turn." I do as I'm ordered. Mostly because Jon nearly shoves me from my spot the next second. He slips my copy out, cases it, then slips the other copy in before I barely have my legs stretched out to stand.

Ha. Nerd. He may try to sound unexcited, but I know my brother. There's a gamer in him yet.

Well, no big. I am completely fine with this. Just one more day. One more single day. I can hardly wait.

But first, I need food. Food is main priority.

To the kitchen!

/

 **TB – E**

/

Four minutes. It only took four minutes before an all-too familiar theme of music began to play again over the laptop's speakers.

I twist my neck a practical one-eighty when my ears pick up the sound, my mouth full of reheated waffles as I gorge myself at the table. I wasn't even paying attention as the rusty-as-hell gamer that is my brother took control and decided he knew what was best when making a character for online playability on a revolutionary new model of gaming.

Stupid stupid stupid stupid STUPID!

I move to my brother. Damn him, he looks happy with himself.

"Done!" He tells me. 'No shit,' I feel like replying back. "See? Didn't even take me three hours."

Ignore him. Stare at computer.

A girl appears to the screen. Short, black hair. Dark green shirt, brown pants. Dark black boots. Light complexion. Sharp eyes, I wasn't complaining about those too much. Basic sword being thrusted into the air. It's all so…normal. Plain. "Did you go with the default look?" Crap, if he did, he'd look like a hundred other scrubs who didn't even try to design themselves. He'd be a twin! Of hundreds!

"No, no. I changed her a bit." He pointed to the screen, even as the girl started to fade. "Black hair from blonde, changed her height a little, messed with her face a bit – I was kinda aiming for her to look a little like…"

He trails off. As if that isn't suspicious. "Like what?" I have to ask.

Jon's face is red. He can't even look me in the eye. In any other circumstance, I'd say this is prime blackmail/mess-with-you information I could use later. But right now, I'm just annoyingly curious.

"I…I wanted to make her a warrior…pretty, but deadly. Like Xena!" Xena? Xena who? "But I couldn't remember what she looked like. But I do remember Mulan – the Disney warrior girl? I always thought she was awesome. Dad and I used to watch that movie all the time. Kicking Hun butt and protecting China. Remember the song? 'Be a man! You must be swift as a…the force of a great typh…strength of a'…remember her? I wanted to design her like that. I thought it would look cool..."

…Aaaand my opinion of my brother has plummeted.

"Dude," I beg, " _please_ tell me you didn't name her Mulan."

If he did, I'd kill him. I swear to God, I would.

"No." Jon admits, still embarrassed. "I thought that would have been…weird." And playing as a girl is normal? In a game where you would ACTUALLY become a girl? "And maybe a bit insensitive." Would it? What's the Japanese relationship with a Chinese heroine? Probably best not to test it either way. "And I didn't feel comfortable naming myself after a girl. Just couldn't make myself do it. So, I went with something more gender neutral."

Gender neutral? "Like what?"

Words appear onscreen.

 **CONGRATULATIONS ON THE CREATION OF YOUR CHARACTER!  
DO BE SURE TO LOG IN THIS NOVEMBER 6** **TH** **AT 13:00 IN  
PREPARATION FOR THE GRAND OPENING OF THE WORLD  
OF AINCRAD!**

 **WELCOME,** **MILLER** **! MAY YOUR HERO'S JOURNEY BEGIN TODAY!**

Miller. Jon named himself after himself.

Myself, too, for that matter.

…I'm done.

/

 **TB – E**

/

 **Author's Note: Seriously, who names their character after their own name?**

 **Names are very important for any standing character. They need to ring, seem natural, and fit the persona of who someone is or will be.**

 **Halfassing a look is fine and whatever. Halfassing a name is a crime.**

 **In this chapter, I wanted to illustrate just how character creation is done in SAO, because the source material never did. It was just sort of 'BAMB!' your character is made. And in the case of the MCs, Kirito and Klein looked very similar to their real people that, I'll admit, watching SAO for the first time, I didn't even realize Kirito's face or appearence changed. Or Klein's. They were just too similar that I didn't even catch it till I looked back.**

 **Who the hell makes a character like that?**

 **When I make characters in RPGs, either I make them extremes or I make them respectable, hero-like characters. However I decide to play a game. I don't make them like me - I'm a boring figure. I wanted to show that the game offers extreme design applications for players, as shown with how Ethan has designed his character to extremes. It's a bygone monster of a figure. Barely resembling a human. Really grotesque.**

 **In short, it is the opposite of how Ethan is or looks.**

 **A very sharp contrast.**

 **Also, Jon's playing a girl. Becoming a girl. Implications of that will be fun.**

 **And I don't care what anyone says, MULAN IS AWESOME AND I HEAR THEY ARE MAKING A LIVE ACTION MOVIE OF IT AND I AM HYPED!**

 **Ahem.**

 **Also, weapons. Wanted to illustrate some diversity why some weapons work for different players. Each has their ups and downs and each has their pluses or minuses. Depending on playstyle, one might work better than another. Especially since the weapon is being used by actual, real people. Some tools will just feel more natural for some than others, like in real life. Swords aren't necessarily the absolute way to go.**

 **Again, it's something that wasn't glossed over in canon. I hope no one minded my adding it in.**

 **And finally, we have our protagonist character designs. Took me forever to think of what to call them or how they should look, but I think the names work with the characters they inhabit and fit each personality.**

 **Miller and Wick. Yeah, I think that sounds like a couple of winn-**

 **Wait, hold on.**

 **Miller and Wick...Miller, Wick...Wick and Miller. _Wick_ and _Miller_.**

 **Rick and Mort- _OH, GODDAMN IT!_**

 **Next Update: 7/25/2017**


	8. The First Day VIII

Title: Two Brothers

Summary: We don't speak the language. We can't read the words. The menu is a troll. Half the time something wants to kill us and the other half is us trying to kill it. In short: Sword Art Online is the worst thing ever. OC Duo First-Person Narrative

 **Author's Note: AND WE! ARE! FULLDIVING!**

 **Plus, seriously, to all you guys and gals out there? You rock. For either following, favoriting, or reviewing below, you keep me at my best with your support.**

 **Everyone, thumbs up to you.**

\

 **November 6, 2022**

\

WELCOME TO THE ARGUS NERVEGEAR FULL BODY CONNECTION PROCESS

IMPORTANT NOTE: THE FOLLOWING PROCESS WILL BE FOR SYSTEM CONNECTION TO ARGUS SYSTEMS AND ALL ARGUS' NERVEGEAR APPLICATIONS. AS NERVEGEAR BEGINS TO CONNECT WITH USER PHYSICAL, INSTRUCTIONS FOR SPECIFIC MOTOR FUNCTION ACTIVITIES WILL BE REQUESTED. PLEASE FOLLOW THESE INSTRUCTIONS TO THE UTMOST CAPABILITY. ANY FAILED OR INACCURATE APPLICATIONS COULD HINDER FULLDIVE PROCEDURES. IF NECESSARY, SYSTEM WILL ASK YOU TO REPEAT PROCESS UNTIL ACCURATE CONNECTION IS MADE WITH USER. DURING THIS TIME, WE ASK THAT YOU DO NOT REMOVE OR UNSTRAP THE NERVEGEAR FROM PERSON. READINGS MAY BECOME DAMAGED OR CORRUPTED. PERSONAL INFORMATION WILL BE PROCESSED THROUGH USER'S MOTOR FUNCTIONS. THE INFORMATION GATHERED WILL NOT BE SHARED OR GIVEN TO ANY OUTSIDE PARTIES. IF THE USER IS UNCOMFORTABLE WITH THIS INFORMATION BEING GIVEN, PLEASE REMOVE YOUR NERVEGEAR IMMEDIATELY

…

…

…

YOU HAVE AGREED TO A FULL NERVEGEAR PHYSICAL ASSESSMENT

TESTING HELMET STRAP CONNECTION

CONNECTION ESTABLISHED. PULSE REGISTERED

TESTING NERVEGEAR FASTENING

…

…

CEREBRAL CONNECTION ESTABLISHED. NERVEGEAR PROPERLY FASTENED

PURCHASE ID: ****-***-********

VERIFYING ID…VERIFYING ID…

ID VERIFIED

VERY GOOD!

NOW, PLEASE FOLLOW INSTRUCTIONS AS THEY APPEAR ON THE SCREEN

\

 **TB – J**

\

WIGGLE TOES

I wiggle my toes.

WIGGLE FINGERS

I wiggle my fingers.

TAKE DEEP BREATH

I do.

PLEASE HOLD BREATH. 5. 4. 3. 2. 1…RELEASE BREATH

I follow the command. Carefully.

Part of the NerveGear setup for proper character transference is to follow a set of commands the system gives to all potential players. The Gear basically registers personal movements through, as far as I understand, reading the electrical signals through your body and setting them to memory. It catalogues everything from slight movements as far from the brain as the toes to the way a heart beats. Every action is itemized with an almost unbelievable accuracy and specification. The entire body memorized, digitized, and put through to the virtual body in a way that made it seem like the user was changing skins.

Or so I've read.

PLEASE MOVE TO TOUCH LEFT FOOT WITH RIGHT HAND

I lean up from my bed, moving my hand down to stroke my toes.

Even just thinking about how it all works is being monitored. I'm not saying it reads minds, but the scanner within all NerveGears is half of what makes it so expensive. It's heavy, efficient, and works to make sure every action I would take if my real body would be registered into the new, avatar body.

It's all very complicated.

PLEASE PAT YOUR THIGHS

I do.

Ethan's in the other room, doing the same. The batteries are charged and Ethan wasted no time throwing his on and getting some privacy. It wouldn't be long now. And I won't lie, I'm pretty darn excited. This will be an experience, there's no questioning that.

PAT LEFT SHOULDER WITH RIGHT HAND

I do.

PAT RIGHT SHOULDER WITH LEFT HAND

That too.

PLEASE WAIT FOR INFORMATION TO BE FILED AND TRANSFERRED TO ARGUS SERVERS

PROCESSING…PROCESSING…PROCESSING…COMPLETE

CONGRATULATIONS! YOUR FULL NERVEGEAR PHYSICAL ASSESSMENT IS COMPLETE! WE THANK YOU FOR TAKING THE TIME TO ACCURATELY ASSIST WITH THE PROCESS AND HOPE THE EXPERIENCE WAS RELAXING FOR YOU

AT THIS TIME, YOU MAY REMOVE THE NERVEGEAR

I undo the strap under my chin and follow the last command.

Ah, NerveGear. Thought it would make my head itch like crazy. Turns out, the worst of it was just a bit of messed up hair. It's actually pretty comfortable; nice and cushioned, and it breaths like it's got its own air-conditioner. Might have cost an arm and a leg, but these things aren't just pretty helmets, that for sure.

I glance to the clock at the side table of my desk.

 **12:47**

Won't be long now.

Cautionary warning on the instructions: before using the NerveGear, be sure to use the restroom, eat something an hour before playing and deal with anything personal beforehand. I'm not sure if these were issues which were brought up during testing, but I have a funny idea there might have been some 'accidents' during first trials.

I already ate an hour ago before I even ran through the physical. Ethan too, though I mostly had to force him. The minute he saw his Gear light up green, he wanted to jump to his room and get the process over with.

He grumbled but turns out that ordered in Japanese seafood is awesome and enough to momentarily settle upset teenagers.

A way to a kid's heart is through food. I count that as a win.

Well, the living room is quiet going in. I wonder if Ethan's finished yet, before I hear the toilet off to the side. Good man, didn't need to remind him. Probably didn't want to wet himself mid-Dive, either.

"You ready?" I ask as he walks out.

"Oh-ho-ho- _hoooo, yeah!_ " He replies giddily. And if that isn't a kick to his step, I don't know what is.

Most of the day before, after he got over my Mulan-inspired character make (Mulan is cool, and I don't care what anyone says), I couldn't get Ethan to stop talking about the game. What he'd do, what he wanted to do, how he planned to make a name for himself. Some of his ideas were positively devilish and evil, in a teenage-twisted-humor sort of way. How he laughed at some mad thought he had to share was bad enough without all the attention he was given when we started to walk around and see what we could do to wait out the time till tomorrow.

Can't imagine how bad it would be if people around actually understood what he was saying. 'Sneak attacks,' 'ambushes,' 'critical backstabbings and brutal takedowns.' Concerning choice of words, if it weren't to a video game.

"What do you want to do first?" I ask, calling out to him and I take care of myself, "Wanna try a quest or something?" Ethan would be the expert on what sort of things would probably be best to do for starters.

"No clue," he yells. "Definitely wanna fight me one of those boars, though. See what that's like."

Ah. The most basic of enemies of the First Floor, The Blue Boar. Saw some interesting videos of first fights with them.

"I can get behind that." Double team the thing, see how the combat worked. See if it was up to snuff.

With business finished, I walk out to see Ethan perusing the TV. We tried watching something before, but most of the stuff was Japanese. Not a subtitle to be found, though Japanese Spongebob kept us entertained for a bit.

And for a few minutes we just casual the streams. Not a word understood on any of the channels, but the calm before the game wasn't terrible. Ethan even tried to make a game of guessing what anyone was saying. From pharmaceutical commercials being about how the old man was pleading for his life as the doctors strapped him to a chair and injected him with unknown substances, to a weatherwoman predicting the end of the world by an oncoming storm of evil, brought upon by the Gods of Narnia and the TARDIS.

And he says he isn't creative.

 **12:57**

The clock ticks another minute. I look down to Ethan, who stares back at me.

"Ready?" I didn't need to ask.

"See you on the other side."

One high five later and we're off to our rooms.

Take game out of case. Check.

Slip said game into port near top of helmet. Check.

Place NerveGear onto head. Check.

Safety chinstrap connected. Check.

Comfortable in bed. Check.

Booting on. A clock pops up at the top left of the visor screen, like always. A full battery symbol on the right, like always.

 **12:59**

I smile. "Are you sure you want to do this?" I yell loud enough to be heard.

" _FUCK YEAH!"_

 **13:00**

…I'll let that one go.

Oh, and almost forgot. There are a couple, easy to remember words to activate the gaming software of the NerveGear. Because the headpiece doesn't have definable buttons or switches, it has to be voice-activated. And the words: two simple ones. Not commonly said in an average sentence, so no one really has to worry about accidentally FullDiving mid-speech. I wonder if Kayaba chose the words himself.

I say them clear, and I say them loud. The two magic words.

" _ **LINK START!**_ _"_

\

 **TB – J**

\

First, there's nothing. Just a bunch of white. Nothing to see or hear. I wonder for a second if I screwed up the program.

Then there is color. So many colors rushing towards me in great, lengthy streams. So close to hitting, just brushing past my eyes.

Forward. I think I'm moving forward. Or falling, maybe. It's hard to say without wind brushing past, but there's definitely a pressure like I'm freefalling. Never done a skydive in my life – heights, yikes – but I do feel a bit weightless. I'm assuming this is how it feels.

The streams go away. Now there are circles. Circles with words in their center.

 _ **Touch…OK**_

 _ **Sight…OK**_

The system's connecting with me. With my senses. I knew this would happen, that the connection would set in. No need to panic.

 _ **Hearing…OK**_

 _ **Taste…OK**_

 _ **Smell…OK**_

The circles encompassing the words shift to the right of my vision. They flash emerald for a brief second then disappear.

A new box.

 _ **Language: Japanese**_

It asks me for a language. It chose for me. Again, no panic. I read that this would happen. Proper translation software hasn't been implemented yet for individual use to SAO. A pain for English and other foreign language proficients, but beggars can't be choosers.

 **LOG IN_::**

 **:account**

 **:password**

Automatic account and password connection. I can work with that. Not really sure how I'd type them in from here; trying to look around does nothing. I can't even feel my hands or feet. I'm just weightless. Immobile.

I don't panic. Things are still working fine. Just have to wait.

Japanese text now. A couple boxes. As becoming a quick norm, I can't read any of it.

Well, except for two pieces.

My chosen name – _**Miller(F)**_ – highlighted in light blue and an English-worded 'yes' and 'no.'

Seemed basic enough. My best guess: this is an 'are you this person' page.

How do I press 'yes'-?

Oh, the word highlighted itself. I'll take that as a good thin-

 **WELCOME TO SWORD ART ONLINE!**

Okay, I think that's everything. What happens-WHOA WHOA WH-?!

COLORS! FALLING! LOTS OF COLORS AND FALLING!

\

 **TB – J**

\

Wait…wait…I need to catch my breath…

Okay, so, first complaint about the game: the loading screen is an absolute trip. Could they have made it any more nauseating? I mean, Jesus, that is not how I imagined I'd be starting up anyth-

Whoa.

I'm still catching my breath. But the air is weird. Very cool. Almost cold, but smooth in…

Oh. Oh wow.

This…okay, uh, I'm in a town. An actual town.

The floor is pavement. There are trees and bushes and…those are birds. I kneel down, pushing my hand between the tiled flooring. And yep, the ridges feel real. Even and cold, like they'd been polished and flattened for easy walking. Stone. Not sure the kind, but…it feels like real stone.

And my hand.

I mean, it is my hand. I open it, close it, open it again. Slender fingers, paler skin tone, a hand way to small than the ones I've gotten used to for most of my life. I put one hand into another, feeling how smooth they are. Nothing like the coarse, rough tones I've, again, grown quite used to in my life.

I move up the fingers. A shirt, green-colored and a comfortable cloth, reaching up my arm. To my elbows, to my biceps – like the fingers, they're slender and not nearly my usual norm, then to my shoulders and-

Oh. This is weird.

Yep. Yep, this isn't me. This is definitely not me. Not real me.

I have a torso. Good start. And I have breasts.

Well, I mean, ones that aren't the normal ones. I mean, they're women's but they're also mine. Things are getting weird. I feel them. Oh, that's weird. Is this what girls feel? These things are interesting.

And the ridging over them…am I wearing a _bra?!_ Did my character come with a bra?! I got in-game underwear?!

I am reaching unknown territories today.

Wait, hold on. Underwear. If memory serves me right, women usually wear two pieces.

And…I'm almost tempted to check what's below. Purely for game authenticity depth purposes, I swear, and maybe to wonder what the hell I have been turned into with this first FullDive. Is this what the Beta Testers felt on their first go? A mass hysteria of new feelings and experiences? New body parts and features which go against everything years of familiarity have embedded into the head? It's kinda freaking me out.

Oh, wait, not alone here.

By way of flashes of light, new peoples are appearing in this – I guess I'd call it a courtyard. A town center, maybe. An opening zone? Is that the game lingo? Either of those will work.

Boys and girls appear. Some cheer upon appearing, some look thoroughly freaked at whatever was happening, and others just take it in stride. Frankly, I'm glad I seem to be a part of the majority – miniature confusion attacks in newly inhabited bodies are everywhere. Some wobble and hold themselves carefully. Some kneel to the floor, taking long, controlled breaths. Others walk away like this was an everyday norm, even with their designs of varying tattoos, scars, hair colors, heights, weights, skin tones and any assortment of other image alterations. Comparatively, I imagine I look practically simple. There are definitely those who had a complex persona in mind when creating their characters.

How many hours must it have taken to make that guy? Or her? Or them? Wonder if it was kinda like Ethan with-

Wait, where's Ethan?

"Ethan?" I ye-oh, what's wrong with my voice? That, that is not my voice. That is a girl's voice. A young girl's voice, not my voice. I mean, makes sense. I am a girl now, kind of, but that's still four kinds of weird I'm going to have to get used to. "Ethan? You here?"

I can't imagine if he could have heard me or not. So many people, so many flashes of light for incoming players with sound effects included, followed by the shouts and screams of Japanese. It's honestly a little overwhelming.

"Ethan?" I give another go, anyway. I move through the crowds. Even walking's weird. Not making the distance I used to. Not as tall as everyone. I am a skinny, shorter girl. There's definitely a learning curve to all of this. "Ethan? It's Jon! Scream if you hear me!"

How hard is it to find a seven-foot-tall, horror-movie figurine?

"Jon?"

Apparently quite hard, I almost missed him.

Off to the side, sitting down on one of the benches of the courtyard, is Ethan. Or, at least, the avatar of Ethan; Wick, as he was so dubbed the day before. Do I call him Ethan or Wick now?

"Sup?" Definitely Ethan's voice. A bit mismatched, coming out of the thing's lips. It's almost comical actually. Especially with how long he is, that tiny bench can barely compensate for his size. And going off his expression, Ethan was of a similar understanding.

But I smile, still, looking him up and down. That's definitely Ethan's abomination. All grimy and dirty and terrifying in its own way. Might have been my imagination, but even some of the other players took a wide berth from us. Ethan was already scaring others and he wasn't even trying. So proud.

"Hey," I call to him. He smiles back, though it does seem a bit fake, "you waiting for me?"

"Uh, kinda."

Can't tell if he's lying. And he's still sitting there. Curious. "You alright?"

"Umm, yeah. A bit." He shrugs, his arms like muscled twigs coming up with him. "Just, uh…just getting used to this."

Ah. This whole thing. Everything from the sky – which looks like a blue-rock ceiling, actually, looking at it a little closer – to the weird way everything is just so grandiose is actually pretty thrilling. "Yeah, I bet. This is…this is really something," I laugh. A girl's laugh. It's almost embarrassing how smoothly it comes out. "Just take it all in, man. This is a one in a lifetime thing."

"Yeah, I'm…I'm trying. Just…one second. Just wait one second." Ethan's avoiding my face. He sits there, waving his extra-length legs around, mulling over the bench.

Might just be the new experience we're in, but I'm a little worried now. "Are you okay?" Did the system not calculate right with him? Was there a complication?

"Ah, no, it's just…" More leg waving. I'm not sure if I'm reading the air right, but…is Ethan embarrassed? "I…I'm having trouble standing…I can't walk."

"What?" Did the system paralyze him? "Why? Are you hurt? Did the game-"

"Jon, chill. It's not the game," Ethan shouts over me. "I'm just, this guy is really tall. And it feels really weird." Tall? Weird? "I'm, I'm having some balancing issues. I'm not used to this yet. Nearly got vertigo when I jumped in…"

Oh. Height. Being tall and skinny. I'm a girl, but he's basically a walking stick-figure with extra scary add-ons. What must that be like? Was it like walking on stilts? Or did it feel like anything could break at any second?

"Do you need some help?"

"No," he shouts, definitely not liking the idea of being mothered. He tries moving himself up, "I just need a se-oookayyesneedyourhelp!" He reaches to me. His fingers go into my shoulders, gripping hard. The legs wobble for a few seconds, taking in the weight of Wick's body. Ethan's expression on the monster's face is almost pitiful. "Just…crap, just stay there and let me get used to this," Wick's eyes are staring down to the limber feet, willing them to stop shaking. It seems to work, a little. Slowly. "I fell back when I got in. Hit another player. Wasn't good. Crawled over here to sit."

I can imagine that wasn't a solid way to start the game. "How does it feel?" I ask, trying to move away from the subject of falling monsters inhabited by embarrassed teens. "Being in there. Feel good?"

"It's, whoa! Uh, well, it's different," I got that feeling, too, "but my sinuses have never been clearer!" A joke, I think. Wick's got no nose. Just slits of where a nose might have been. "And, I mean, it's kinda fun to- _BRAUGH!_ " Ethan's turned to the side, shouting at a couple of closer players. They reacted appropriately, bringing a laugh to the dork. "And it's kinda freaky. Like, I can feel the muscles under the skin. There isn't any fat to me. Only skinny, weird muscle. Do you think that will affect gameplay?"

His legs weren't wiggling much now. Even his grip was slacking. "I imagine it will only if you let it." Safe answer.

"Yeah, maybe." He agrees. And…there. Legs are still. His fingers are barely holding. It's not weight that's bothering him. Just the adjustment to a new body. A weird, unorthodox body. "Okay. Okay, I think," he takes a slow step and laughs when he doesn't trip, "I think this is working now."

I step away as he moves. So do others, actually. Still scared.

Four. Five. Six. Seven steps. Then he does a couple jumps. No problems. Still looked to be a little wary of it all, but Ethan didn't look like he'd never walked before, so that's a plus.

Then he pulled out the knife.

"Oh-ho-ho! Now _that's_ a knife!" I almost worried he'd start moving on players, but all he did was give it a few practice swings. Measure the feel, I guess. It was a simple looking thing, little more than a butcher's knife. But you would have thought it some legendary piece of gear with how Ethan swung it around, proud and mighty (with maybe still trying to maintain balance).

Oh, right, I have one too.

Left side, tied to the belt at my waist, a sword. My fingers take a nice grip, the leather straps feel pretty smooth and even. A fine handle, I guess, even if it was beginner weaponry.

With a nice sounding removal of the weapon from the leathery sheath, I followed my brother's example with a few practice swings. Oh, I remember playing samurais or swordsmen or other fighters with swords when I was younger. How I thought I was tough and cool with my plastic toy or pool floatie which I conveniently made into a makeshift weapon.

Oh, I was a dork without question.

I can even feel a little red on my new face's cheeks as I smile and put the thing away. I'd probably get plenty of practice soon.

I watch as Ethan begins to perform a little to those watching us. I let him do his thing. He was probably a bigger dork than I was, but he seemed entertained with his posing and pretend practices of the knife. He was hardly the only one around having fun with their own tools in the courtyard; my brother just looked particularly intriguing because of his design.

A dagger-wielding monster. That's certainly an eyeful.

"Alright, enough. You're scaring people," I laugh as Ethan stops to look at me, then to the small group of onlookers. Say what you will about my brother but he does not like to be the center of attention.

He puts the knife away. "Right. Yeah, uh, let's go."

Oh, that doofus. Trying to take command like that.

He tries for a direction, moving into the group of onlookers who quickly give him space. Maybe they don't even realize he'd just a mortified teen trying to save some of his dignity, or that he probably doesn't have any idea where he's going off to. Just knowing it's anywhere but here.

I run up beside him, trying to match his walk. Downside of this smallish figure; for once, Ethan's taller than me. Still, the extra effort in moving beside him doesn't stop him from noticing my amusement.

"Oh, you just looked so cool, bro!" I haze. Can't help it.

"Piss off," he says back, still red. "Least I don't look like a Disney Princess. Got something you want to admit to me? Secret hopes and dreams finally fulfilled?" He tries to look innocent enough with his suggestion, but the obvious snarl in his tone is obvious.

I shouldn't rise to the bait, but I do. "Least I don't look like I aimed for 'reject design of Nosferatu.' The nineteen-twenties called, bro, they want to sue you for use of their terrible vampire design."

"Was that an insult? Looks like all it took to get that pole out of your ass was a gender change and a loss of balls. Congrats. Should I get you your tiara and glass slippers, milady? Something that goes with your voice?"

"You do that. I'll break one and make you swallow the shards."

"Try it and I'll shiv you with my knife."

"I'll gut you with the sword."

"I'll beat you with the crits."

"Can't critical what you can't touch. I've got reach."

This is childish and beneath me-

"Who needs reach with arms like these?"

"Who needs criticals when your weapon's not a toothpick?"

-but surprisingly fun.

"Well mine's…"

\

 **TB – J**

\

The menu.

"Nah, see, you need to bring your hand down. Like your moving something solid with your fingers."

Still nothing.

"Nah, you have to do it slower. Think your using a touch screen. You want to bring something down with your fingers. A light swipe – try it."

One more time. Hand up, swipe down, and nothing.

"You suck at this." Ethan criticizes tiredly. Even I'm getting worn-out of this.

"This isn't easy," I tell him.

"It is. It really is," he returns. Just to show me, without even looking at his hands, he brings his fingers down to the side.

A small chime of bells echo where a semi-transparent panel appears, hovering in the air. On one side, there's a body of a man. Several circles encompass the figure, each with a symbol of its own. A couple were easier to make out – shirt symbol, pants symbol, weapon symbol – while others were a little trickier – that might have been a ring or crown symbol. An attachment or equipment page. Even at the bottom were what I assumed were small status info given by the items equipped. Couldn't tell what was boosted, enhanced or whatever. Japanese font, again. Difficult to say what was what, but nothing was in the negatives, so I guess that's a plus.

This wasn't the entirety of the menu. Ethan's been trying for the last ten minutes to figure what everything did and just managed to bring it up in the meantime.

The true menu was a list of scrollable features. Which, weirdly enough, were just a bunch of circled symbols that we had to figure out what each meant.

Or, well, I did. Ethan knew most of them from videos. But he was willing to, by his own words, 'enlighten me.'

The first of the scrollable images offered was a single person symbol: personal info. That's where Ethan found the Equipment section. Now, weirdly enough, in contrast to most of the games Japanese heavy font use, this is where the first English we'd seen in-game was. 'Equipment' was written on the bottom box, with a small sword image beside it.

At the top of the boxes was the bag image, which next to it had the English 'Items' scrolled on. Clicking the word, I admit I hoped to see more English.

But no, Japanese took over. Again.

A single of the extended boxes from the Items piece had a few Japanese words scrolled over it with an 'x 1' at the end of it, along with a single vial icon expressing that what we were reading was, by Ethan's guess, potions.

We translated this as 'one potion.'

Ethan wanted to test something.

He gave the box a quick tap to the word and out popped a glass vial of red drink.

How it appeared in a small bit of light, out of thin air…it was pretty cool.

Ethan looked it over before passing it to me. The glass was cool and the cap on its top popped easily enough. It was a neat little thing. Passing it back, my brother pushed the vial into the menu. It was like he slipped it through water, the menu absorbed it in. And where the box where the potion was held turned blank when the item was taken out, now it filled itself again with the same words.

Very nice.

The second box was labelled 'Skills.' Not sure what the image was, some sort of person figurine, but tapping on it proved uninteresting. It opened up another window but there was nothing there. No skills, no list. Nothing available.

We'd figure that one later.

Next on the main menu was a textbox symbol: messenger feature. Guess we could write each other from a distance. Nifty.

After that, a map icon: map or minimap option. All Ethan could see was where we've been on the town, so it was mostly shaded or, as my brother put it, 'fogged' with unknown space. I said we'd fix that soon enough.

And then, the last one we checked, was of the two persons: partying. How did we guess it was partying? Well, we guessed it was. Parties in Aincrad may consist of six individuals, which form a squad. We knew that, and we hoped this little feature was the way to do it.

That encouraged me to figure out the menu a little faster. Without much luck.

"Again. Again. A- _gain_! Again…" Ethan goes on, watching me.

Seriously, is the game already broken? One two three fou-no, wait! It worked! The fourth time put it away!

"Sucks to be you," more commentating. Again, Ethan swiped down, menu appears. Swipe again, disappears. "I think your character's broken. Wanna exchange it for an Elsa model?"

I almost smack him. "Now you're just being a- _yes!_ " Panel popup. Oh, first challenge is a success! "There! Got it, I got it!"

Ethan barely seems to care. "Good. Swell. Let's party."

I'll just let him lead. He brings out the menu as casually as ever, pokes the two-person symbol, which opens up another set of bars to the side. An extension of the first, three bars – 'Loot,' 'Party,' and 'Friends.'

Don't need to tell him what to press. Ethan's smart. He taps 'Party.'

More bars. More Japanese. One with a large cross, one with a single circle splitting into two, and one with a single large 'X' through where the symbol would usually be.

I can't guess which does which. 'X' probably wouldn't help, which left 'circles' and 'cross.'

But Ethan seems to have a better idea of what's happening. He taps the bar with the circles.

Up pops another screen. This time, it's to the left of the two persons symbol, rather than to the right. I can read the box from behind, only a little. 'Wick' at the very top, followed by more English – seriously, game, English or Japanese, make up your mind – with the words 'Party Request.'

Ethan makes sure to look at me then taps the request line.

 **Invite**

Oh. Well, that worked rather nicely.

A semi-transparent screen pops up. It's like the menus, really. Japanese font under the invitation word, conveniently English, but the big blue circle button under and to the left of the text is definitely suggesting something positive. The red circled 'X' next to it was less appealing.

I tap it. Almost worry somethings about to blow up in my face. But nope, all is good.

And something weird just happened in the top left of my sight.

There's my health. A long, green bar. And to the left of it, my name.

 **Miller**

I never noticed before. I must be blind.

But now, something new just popped up. Another name, with its own, shorter green bar.

 **Wick**

"It worked," Ethan says. With the way he's looking, I think he just noticed the bars too. "I am now partied with Mulan. Please bring honor to me."

How long did it take him to think up that one?

I swipe my menu away, knowing I can probably get it back now. Probably.

Now that that's all settled, time for the main attraction.

The Adventure of Aincrad.

As it turns out, when Ethan ran away from his adoring watchers, he actually _did_ have some idea where he was going before. This is the edge of town, just barely past the safety zone all towns have for players to rest and renew themselves for play, overlooking the vast expanse of territory that occupies the First Floor. And with it, the Wilds; enemy territory.

Ethan's a bit of an adrenaline hog. He wanted to go hunting with his new toothpick.

Yeah, sure, I wanted to check out the town a bit – it's seriously well-designed, and most people are still checking out the shops and stalls for supplies and making friends with their fellow lucky buyers – but he's eager.

He wants to be top dog. He wants to see action – blood of the digital kind – and to test just how crazy this world can be.

Can't say I blame him.

Looking out from the borders of the town, just past the entrance gates, are fields of green grass as far as my eyes can see. Some trees here and there, a couple rocks now and then, but that's not even the cool thing. What really catches the eyes are the pillars off in the distance, which start off skinny on the bottom but expand outwards as they get closer to the ceiling-sky. Some are like the bottom here – green with trees and grass – but others have castles and small towns to them. Quests or special item locations, maybe? Not sure how we'd get up there, or if I'd want to, but that's an option to consider later.

But above all else, my eyes catch the fur of blue, four-legged somethings aways out.

They catch Ethan's pale eyes, too.

"Ready for this?" I ask, turning to look him in the face. It's now or never.

"Born ready." He answers. Focus set, he doesn't even turn to me.

As far as cliché responses go, I let it pass. Part of me even admits that, yeah, he probably was.

We step out past the gate's safety.

He draws the knife. I draw the sword.

\

 **TB – J**

\

 **Author's Note: One thing I've noticed from watching the anime, both subbed and dubbed, is that the menu is an evil, twisted thing. Seriously, at some points, it uses English. Other times, it's full-on Japanese. I can't make heads or tails of it. I half expect it to be sentient and just deciding to mess with people as to impart further chaos onto the players.**

 **Seriously, if you have a moment, watch the dubs and subs where the menu appears. Watch carefully and you'll see where parts are English and parts are Japanese. Hell, even one of the photos in the SAO wiki shows the menu and has the word changes clearly showing where it's sometimes English and sometimes Japanese (link to photo in my account (or it would be IF FANFICTION WORKED!)).**

 **In short, the SAO menu is evil. I couldn't help but put that in this chapter. It irritates me so much, I had to put something in.**

 **Also, that opening to the game. Where all five senses are connected to the user. How trippy was that?**

 **Like, wow. Freefalling nightmare.**

 **And lastly, the character designs. It is confirmed that the characters do wear underwear in-game (and suggested you can have sex in-game, which is weird, but you can also sleep in-game, so par for the course really). Jon's wearing girl's underwear. And has breasts. And possibly other girl parts (this game is kinda deep and detailed). I wanted to illustrate a little on how weird that must feel to be put into something so different than the usual person you are. And how, once being a guy, now a girl, is off-putting for sure.**

 **But none moreso than Ethan.**

 **The Wick avatar is practically Jack Skellington. Tall, skinny, and weirdly deformed. How does someone react to that naturally? I watched a bit of James Cameron's Avatar for clues, but I didn't think Ethan would have the same ease of jumping into something so vastly different then his original body as Jake Sully did. I just wanted to show that new bodies are new experiences and require adapting to different motor functions, virtual or otherwise. Not everyone is going adapt or standup and jump into it so easily. It's a vibrant and new thing like nothing that has been known to anyone before.**

 **In essence, there might be some required 'adapting' that needs to take place for new users who go to character designing extremes. But that's just part of the fun, right?**

 **Next Update : 7/27/2017**


	9. The First Day IX

Title: Two Brothers

Summary: We don't speak the language. We can't read the words. The menu is a troll. Half the time something wants to kill us and the other half is us trying to kill it. In short: Sword Art Online is the worst thing ever. OC Duo First-Person Narrative

/

 **TB – E**

/

So, physics and game mechanics are a funny thing.

See, in the usual game, characters have fixed movements. If I want a guy to swing a sword, he'll swing a sword with a tap of a button. The same exact way, every single time. There's no adjustment to the movements; so long as the weapon I have doesn't hit something or bounce off something, or so long as I'm aiming in an open space, the movements are pretty much mechanical. Readable. Predictable. A move I'll see some thousand-thousand times and, because it's fluid and looks nice graphically, I won't think twice on how uncanny it is for such a swing of a sword or knife is so much the same as every other time I've seen it without tiring or even the slightest adjustment.

Because it's a game. The basis between real life and a game are different.

Where a snowflake in real life will always be, however minutely, different than any other snowflake, the same cannot be said in-game. Rain or snow, it's likely that the model used for each drop or flake is the same as the other. For simplicity and designing sake.

Back to the character swinging a weapon; creating different motions for how someone swings a weapon every time they do so will get exhausting to program. Sure, there can be new moves, different angles to gesture out, but mostly the attack will be the same type of motion. There's no difference to the speed of the swing. No difference to how the sword or weapon moves. It'll always shift the same. The character's arm will twist or body shift in always the same motion. And, as always, if an enemy or thing is hit with an attack, depending on game parameters I won't go into detail for, there will be a set bit of damage involved.

It'll probably always be the same. Sure, there may be some difference or code which changes the numbers a bit, but mostly, it's a stable digit.

Forty damage from the first swing. Forty damage from the second swing. Forty damage from the third swing. Forty damage…so on, so forth.

It's all programmed.

This is where SAO is vastly different. No standard controls. No premade movesets. I am the control. I am the moveset. All me.

And that's where things get interesting. This is where the physics come into play. Depending on factors of speed, thrust, angle, weapon of choice, character stats and a number of other controls, damage isn't so regulated as with previous titles. Tapping my knife at something isn't going to do anything in the way of damage. Swinging it at half my usual effort is likely to produce something like damage, but the game will detect the lack of actual energy put into and adjust the damage accordingly. But then, if I swing with the full intent…

"Heads up!"

Right, focus.

The Blue Boar. It's about what anyone would imagine. A boar with blue fur. Basic design and its character matches its namesake.

Its eyes are red. Easy to watch. It prances over to me with nothing too obvious to read.

Our first fight. Easy enough to find one, most of the area is littered with these guys, but there's something exciting about the first enemy. Your first kill, which I'm working on.

I'd have to be a complete idiot to have trouble with this thing. The boar has some bite to its fight, but it's attacks are pretty standard. Straight charge, tusk attack, rinse and repeat. It maybe has some speed moving, but its ability to turn isn't anything grand.

Basic enemy. Who could have trouble with it?

Sidestep, avoid the thing by a mile.

Then stab.

" _Arrgh!_ "

It cries, struggling to fight off as I keep the knife into its side.

Above the monster's head is a health bar just like ours. It was green a second ago, now yellow. Jon was playing with it before, learning the fighting stuff. Didn't even try to hit it hard.

Stabbing works well here. The health keeps falling the longer I keep it in.

Twist the knife a little a little. The health fell a bit faster for a second. Very nice.

" _Rarghh!_ "

Ah, didn't expect it to be so easy. Small knife, big boar, it got out fast enough and stepped away to put some distance between itself us.

That's fine. It wasn't running. Just brushing its front leg to the ground – a tell to its preparing a standard charge.

"You want him? Or can I have a go?" Jon asks, moving up to me. Quick look tells me even he's not too worried about this guy either. A real boar in real life might be trouble, but this guy? Small fry not even worth fretting over.

"What do you think?" Rhetorical question, Jon understands. He lifts his hands, backing off and leaving the finale to me.

Which is all good, 'cause here comes the charge.

" _Weeegh!"_

I'm almost tempted to perform a cool finisher. But I've seen how that works from streams and videos. End result is that I look like a fool while my health takes a load off. Saw someone try to ride one of these things and stab it in the back only to play rodeo after. Hilarious.

For the sake of pride, I'll keep it simple.

Step right, avoid tusks, knife to head.

And, oh _baby_ , a critical.

That health went down like it was going out of style. The boar twitched, losing its balance, and fell. Didn't even have time to marvel or take my knife out before it started to shine a bright white. Then, it exploded; tiny, shimmering shards of light all around. Not a body to be found. If that's not dead, I don't know what is.

Ooh, a popup.

 **Result**

 **Exp – 24**

 **Cor – 30**

 **Items – 3**

Experience. Money. Items. Our first pull. I consider it a good one.

"Nice work," girl-voiced Jon speaks up beside me. He's got the same window popped up to his side. "I think Dad would call that a first notch in your belt."

Working together, killing pigs, getting exp. Feels good.

"Thanks," I return, looking at my knife. No blood, no surprise. Game was only rated T. Didn't expect anything more.

I'll admit, that was kinda easy. I mean, yeah, it got my virtual blood pumping and definitely wasn't anything like I've felt before. Hell, even when we started the fight, a bit of SAO's combat music track played around us – seriously cool, even with a little victory chime when the boar imploded.

I've don't have any complaints about that. But…yeah. That was too easy. Way too easy.

I need more challenge.

And wouldn't you know it, up on the hill to our right, three new boars just popped in.

Jon noticed too. "Wanna have another go?" He asks, already pulling his sword out from the sheath.

I can only laugh, standing at full height. Feels good now. Natural. The knife may be short for my hand, but I work with what I have.

"What do you think?" Rhetorical question.

We race up the hill.

/

 **TB – E**

/

Item Haul.

Four somethings with a tusk symbol at the side, five doohickeys with a heart character, three blah-blahs with a meat sign, and two whatever-the-text-is-in-Japanese which looks to have poop emoji.

Ballin'.

Twelve boars later and, yeah, maybe a small break couldn't hurt. Might have been a little crazy taking on that pack of five roaming around. But, when in Aincrad, take risks.

I even got damaged. Knocked back by a charge from behind.

Health dropped a bit. A good sixth down. Freaked Jon out, that's for sure.

Still, I sent back what they took tenfold.

Total Blue Boar Kill Count so far: Jon – five. Ethan – eight.

And the crowd goes wild.

"What you smiling about?" Jon asks, as he swipes his finger through the menu (took him a good three minutes to get it up – LOL).

"My awesomeness," I tell him, "personification of all things godly, my name is Wick." I should have done drama. "Fear and love me, mortal. You stand in the presence of something unholy and wondrous." Jon doesn't look up from his menu. Just kind of snorts. "Hey, there's no reason to be jealous."

"Well you're right about that." Oh, burn. "But seriously, are you having fun?"

What's with Jon and asking the dumb questions today? "Are you?"

"Oh, definitely." I saw him having fun with the boars, casually testing them with a smile.

"Then there you go," I reply, turning to look over the green hills, "this place is…dope."

Only an hour in and this place is already giving me goosebumps. The good kind. Laying on the grass, it's smooth and tickles when the wind breezes through it. I can feel it on this pale skin of mine, gently stroking my thin limbs. The wind feels like a real breeze over everything. I feel it. I really feel it. Even the sounds of my steps seem authentic, whether on soil or some kind of pavement. Even the sky is nice – a ceiling past the blue, but with how craptastic the weathers been back home, a little sunshine never hurt.

Wonder if I can work on Wick's tan.

Still, everything is sensual. Not sure if that's exactly the right word for it, but it's definitely cool.

Lifelike. Minus all the fantastical elements.

"Hey, someone's got a friend!" Jon shouts, pointing beside me.

I look to my left. Blue Boar, three feet away.

I stare at it. It stares at me, then casually starts eating grass. Blue Boars aren't aggressive monsters. They attack if you attack them. Retaliatory, that's the word. If they're close together, a group will join together to an opponent. If singular, like this one, it will defend itself alone.

I'll just leave it, for now. When Jon's ready, maybe we'll make it our wakeup fight.

My finger leaves the item list and falls under the 'Skills' slot. I do a little prayer and open it.

Same as before. Nothing there.

Sucks, but no real surprise.

Little background info on Skills: Skills are abilities that are gained through the game. There are a wide range of them from Weapon Skills, which are basically skills pertaining to weapon specialty like hammers, spears, swords and the like, to Support Skills, which can help with anything pertaining to that area of expertise, like Carpentry, Picking, certain weapon makings, even Hiding from monsters, or things relating to Combat like First Aid or Shield use.

The skills may be upgraded by further use, anywhere from 0 to 1000 at maximum. Getting better at certain skills will make some quests or options available, while also improving an individual's survivability. Kinda like other RPGs.

The Skill I'm looking for now? One that will help me fight not so normally.

There are other ways of fighting this in game. It's not all just about swinging swords and daggers here. There are ways to go beyond the normal movesets limited by each player and progress beyond the normal ability.

Namely, by way of using what are called 'Sword Skills.'

Best I can describe them are as computer-generated moves. By positioning yourself or making a certain stance, the system will record the gesture as I'm making a move or wanting to perform a certain special attack. Then, the weapon in use will glow a specific color, signifying the move is ready, and then the body will have some control taken from it as the user is forced to project a move by the game.

These attacks are unique. They are fast and stronger than the normal stab-stab, slash-slash moves I've been making for the last dozen boars. With Sword Skills, I can move faster and hit harder than before. It's described by the Betas as quite the rush. All weapons have them, unique ones to each tool. Leveling up specific Skills – either through continued use of fights pertaining to that skill or through questline bonuses – and more Sword Skills will be unlocked.

Now, I know each weapon comes with one or two of these skills initially by unlocking the Skill which occupies it. Moves like 'Horizontal' – a single slash of the sword – or 'Rage Spike' – a basic forward stab – are the standard starter moves for sword users. It's what Jon would work with first. However, before he can use them, he needs to have 'One-Handed Sword' unlocked and put into his skill sheet.

How to do this? Kill enemies with one-handed swords.

Duh.

Shouldn't take many. Maybe ten-fifteen? Twenty? Hard to say. We're already past ten, together, so it probably won't be much longer-

" _Breegh!"_

The boar screeched.

" _Breeaagh!"_

Another screech. What's-?

" _Breee…"_

I turn to my left. There's Jon, sword out and cleaving the boar's head right off. I didn't even see him move. The head bobs down beside me, staring up with red, unmoving eyes.

"Brutality," always wanted to say that, "Mulan wins."

The usual victory panel pops up for Jon. Standard experience and the like. Kinda stinks I missed on it, thus earning no benefits, but it's such a minor thing that I don't-

Another panel opens. English title. I read it backwards.

 **Skill Unlocked!**

Can't read the text under it. Japanese. But there's a symbol there to the side.

I stand up and move beside my brother. The icon: a single sword, pointing upward.

I recognize the symbol from the forums.

"Is this a good thing?" Jon asks, pointing at the message.

He legitimately doesn't understand what's going on. My brother, who now occupies a girl's body, is now an official One-Handed Sword Player.

Lucky son of a bitch.

/

 **TB – E**

/

A mannequin figurine plays out in front of us, moving a makeshift sword in a specific way. The video's sword glows brightly, humming as if it were causing the air to fizzle from heat, then the figure shoots forward in a sudden, quick stab.

With the move finished, the video repeats itself.

"Seems simple enough," Jon says, watching everything again. Closely.

I have to agree. It does look easy.

After the Skill unlock, we had to test some things. Namely, I had to see how this worked.

Jon opened the menu. He went to skills. One-Handed Sword was there, still Japanese. He clicked it, hoping something would happen, and thankfully we did get a result. A few new bars. All Japanese.

God bless Kayaba and his symbols. We'd be doomed otherwise.

Skipping a few of the bars, we go to the one with the swinging sword. Or, rather, I point to it and tell Jon to click it.

More bars. More Japanese. No symbols.

Not sure where to go from here. I tell him to click the first piece.

And up pops the video. Sword Skill tutorial vids.

I did wonder how we'd learn these things if we couldn't read almost anything. Thank you, SAO, for giving singular-language proficients (a.k.a. Americans) a chance to survive.

"Alright, let's test this," Jon closes the menu, pulling out his sword and looking ahead. We picked out a new boar a minute ago before perusing. The dumb thing doesn't even seem to notice we're basically about to aggro it for the sake of testing our killing capabilities with system motioned techniques.

Thank you, Pumba. Your sacrifice won't be forgotten.

I take a step back as Jon steps forward. He's never been one for dramatic pauses and moves the sword to just above his shoulder, as roughly to where he needed to go as possible. He spreads his legs, hardens himself, as if expecting something harsh to happen.

The system's reactionary. Not a second after he gets his sword over his shoulder and a silvery light encircles the weapon. Glowing, sparkling with a light hum as the Skill activates.

Mulan with a lightsaber. Now I've seen everything.

Even Jon seems surprised, as far as I can tell with that face of his. His eyes – or, would it be 'her' eyes, now? – try to stray off and look to the weapon in-hand, but his head refuses to comply and focuses instead onto the unwary boar. Eyes set and keen. He pushes forward, arm thrusting forward into a stab aimed to the boar's side.

And…yeah. That was fast. The glow told me it would be strong, but how Jon moved? It's like something pulled him forward. Giving him an extra 'oomph.'

It wasn't spectacular. That was Rage Spike. Basic attack, I've seen it a hundred times online.

Still, Jon just did it. And how the Blue Boar reacted was worth seeing it live.

" _Breegh…"_

And pop goes the pig.

It was over almost as quickly as it started. Our fastest kill yet. Jon settles himself after a moment. "Whoa," an apt choice of words. "That's…pretty somethin'." He's looking over the sword, maybe to see if it would start glowing again. I kinda wish it would. That was sick.

Total Blue Boar Kill Count so far: Jon – seven. Ethan – eight.

And the crowd looks nervous. Will their hero not be able to prevail with an upper TBBKC by the end of the night?

Screw that. Time to space up the scores a little.

Oh, and wouldn't you know it? Three volunteer pigs to help with just that. Time to get me a Skill.

"I! Want! Bacon!"

Best. Warcry. Ever.

/

 **TB – E**

/

 **Author's Note: Yeah, I know, Klein has a Sword Skill right off the bat. No required skill unlocks needed. But…meh, I plan to add more to the story that the original piece lacked. Maybe mess with a few things to make SAO more like an actual game and not so restricting in some extreme aspects.**

 **Like something with Duel-Wielding…**

 **Anyway, I did consider ending the chapter after Jon brutalized the boar and getting his Skill, just to describe how it feels to use a Sword Skill in the next part, but that sounded boring to me. Plus, the chapter would be short then. Wanted to illustrate just how the Sword Skills were even discovered and figured out how to be used in game, because 'instinct' is a stupid answer when it comes to a game system.**

 **Unlocking them is simple enough. The video idea on how to use Sword Skills? Basic, but not impossible.**

 **Also, Blue Boars. Kinda made fun of them. Yeah, in story they're known as 'Frenzy Boars', but I had a game of SAO which referenced them as Blue Boars, so that's what I'll stick with. Sounds better to me, too.**

 **Anyway, I wanted to give the impression that only a dumbass would have trouble with them (*cough* Klein-you-poor-butt-monkey-of-a-character-whose-only-around-to-make-Kirito-look-better-and-poor-bits-of-humor-I-wish-you-were-treated-better *cough*). Yeah, I know this is an aspect of gaming that no one knows entirely how to play yet, but still…it's the First Floor. The most BASIC of enemies. Against a pair of boys who aren't useless.**

 **Blue Boar. Can anyone say 'blue bacon?'**

 **Hmm, blue bacon. Someone call up Sally Jackson, I've got something new for her to sell (if anyone got that reference, I award you the internet).**


	10. The First Day X

Title: Two Brothers

Summary: We don't speak the language. We can't read the words. The menu is a troll. Half the time something wants to kill us and the other half is us trying to kill it. In short: SAO is the worst thing ever. OC Duo

\

 **TB – J**

\

In the menu, there's another clickable option below the map image – a miniature figurine icon.

Unlike the top bar, which just has the rough outline of a person's top half torso and head, this little guy is fully shown. It kinda looks like the figure which pops up when Ethan was checking out his equipment page, but skinnier and small to fit the floating, semi-transparent circle button. Tapping it brings up the largest, singular panel of the entire menu. With more detail put into then I admittedly would have expected.

 **Personal Info**

Obviously, it's a page dedicated to us. Me. My character. Name. Level. Experience. Health. Cor (current money). Equipment load weight. Item load weight. Status effects. Hunger. Thirst. Personal temperature (in Celsius, which I can't make a lick of sense of). Personal stats, comprised of only 'STR' and 'AGL.' Other things I don't have exact info on but will probably come up later. And all of it is, weirdly enough, spelled out in readable _English._

Seriously, why are some things English and others not? Is the menu bugged? Is 'bugged' the right word? Game lingo, still getting back into it.

Anyway, Personal has some nifty info behind it. Plenty of life stats. Was that to make the game more realistic? Not sure. Didn't know what half of the marks were meant to do and tapping on something like 'Hunger' or 'Thirst' only brought up more bars and – surprise! – more Japanese.

Menu, you're killing me here.

If Ethan's had any troubles with it, he's not saying. In fact, for the last ten minutes, he hasn't said much. Just keeps going back and forth with his menu and his posturing, mimicking his video's moves as best he can.

Can't help but smile.

Ethan got himself a Skill. 'One-handed Dagger.'

Took him awhile, but he got his after some twentieth Blue Boar. And boy, if that didn't put a little cheer in him.

Not sure what move Ethan's practicing – for that matter, not sure what move I've been doing is either – but he's feeling it out. Keeps moving his knife down to his side, watching as it glows a marsh-green, then steps forward in a quick cut. Smooth, fast, and the afterglow of where the knife flew lingers. That look on Ethan's face says he's probably feeling what I did my first time – the projection, the quickness, even a bit of virtual adrenaline that comes with it. There's a thrill to moving that fast. I'd almost call it addicting.

Now he's trying to make it feel natural. Couple cuts, down stab, bring knife back and move into the Sword Skill. It's not fancy or smooth. To be honest, it's anything but. Though, if Ethan actually knew anything on how to use a knife, that would raise a few concerning questions on my part. So, it's a plus-negative, I guess. Probably didn't help that he's working in a body that's way outside his comfort zone, either.

Then again, it's not like I'm doing much better. Felt like I've been using a bat more than a sword, once or twice. Which is awkward, 'cause the sword's handle just doesn't have the width for two hands, even with these new, skinny palms.

Maybe I should have gone with something like the mace or hammer. Probably would have felt more natural.

But I was Mulan (sort of), so having any other weapon would have felt wrong.

"Yo, Jon!"

Oh, I'm being called. "Yeah?"

Ethan's not practicing. "I think I'm hungry."

Really? That was fast. We're only a couple hours in. Didn't think we'd leave till dinner.

"You want to logout?" I ask.

He shook his head. "No, I meant-"

I heard a growl coming from Ethan's avatar. A low, gurgled sound. I'm not dumb enough to figure out where that came from. And no, it wasn't another boar.

"That. _That's_ saying I'm hungry."

A virtual, growling stomach. Nothing in this world will ever surprise me again.

My 'Hunger' says it's about a quarter of the way to empty on my Personal. I guess that means I'm almost famished? Not really sure when my stomach will start growling, and I'm almost tempted to let it do just that to see how it feels, but I'm sure explaining as much to Ethan will not score me any points, so…

"Let's grab some lunch." With a wave of my hand, the menu disappears. It's always willing to leave, not so willing to popup. I'll just mark that as a sign of its rising intelligence and willingness to fight against its human overlords. And not so much about my lack of tech savviness. Definitely not that.

Well, whatever. Let's see how virtual food tastes.

\

 **TB – J**

\

Black bread.

Fun story, when I was younger, before Natalie or Ethan, I liked to nibble or bite anything that wasn't grass, rocks or dirt. No idea why, too long ago, and I can't remember half the things I've tried to stick between my lips during that frankly bizarre point in my life. I can't remember how many times Mom had to explain to me that what I was trying to eat was 'yucky' or 'not good.' Of course, I listened, but I doubt I took the message to heart as I probably should have. I think I remember an ant or dead fly in particular Mom wasn't too observant to stop me from gorging myself on…

I did break the habit. Obviously. Stupid kid antics and stuff.

Mom, in her usual quirkiness, found the perfect thing to do it with. Something that would break my usual pattern of fitting things to my mouth. Something so tasteless and vile I'd refrain from putting another thing to my lips.

She gave me, of all things, _charcoal_ to suck on.

Suck on? Phht, yeah right. I bit into that sucker like I hadn't eaten anything in a month.

Goes without saying, _that_ was a big mistake.

Now, this is black bread. It is, as Ethan says, the most basic and cheap of meal options. 1 Cor for each loaf, found in the cheapest looking stand down at the very edges of the main market of the Town of Beginnings. It looks to be burnt black, barely larger than my hand – this girlish one – and crumbs start to fall just by holding it. It's default durability is less than a single point, meaning to even put it down in the gentlest of ways might cause it to break.

Apparently, it had something of an infamous reputation online during the Beta testing phase of the game. For it's 'unique taste.'

Ethan bought six pieces and split them between us.

"Cheers," he said then took a first bite. Large and deep, nearly taking the first loaf all in one go.

I followed after. I wouldn't be outdone, so I went with as large a chomp as my mouth could allow.

And…oh.

It was like taking a bite out of thick flour. It broke in my mouth. Bitter, so very bitter. It touched and stuck to the top of my mouth, my teeth, my tongue. Swallowing it was not an option. This wasn't bread but something pungent and harsh. To call it bread was an insult to even the most despicable examples of dough in the world. And when I tried to breathe, that was dumb. I could feel the black crumbs fall to the back of my throat, lighting my throat up like I decided to drink straight liquor. It probably was a lot like trying to swallow cinnamon, though I've never been so dumb as to try it. Let others be stupid and make me laugh with the challenge, I was more than happy to keep my pride and dignity.

Till now, that is.

My eyes are blurred, but I can still make out something happening around us. Players are laughing. Laughing at us. Smiling and amused as I hobbled and tried to move past this horrible taste. Amused by our spectacle of suffering, it seemed some decided to stop what they were doing to watch us for a moment.

I didn't even have the sense to feel embarrassed by it all. I just wanted to stop the bread.

And Ethan…nope, he's doing just as bad. Worse, actually. He's on his knees, trying to hold himself up, gagging and trying to cough out the crap. His eyes are watering, words aren't forming, and I wonder what he would say if he wasn't breathing out black specks of bread now.

I should have waited. Waited for him to take the first bite and see how he took to it.

Hindsight's twenty-twenty, but common sense is a powerful, true friend and it thankfully has a small victory here.

I navigated back to the stall. Two water skins, sitting at the far side next to the bread. I grab two, tap the blue-positive key for purchasing them, 30 Cor each, then take a swig.

Oh, I'm a man dying of thirst.

Water. Sweet, sweet water.

Still, I'm feeling a bit funny from it all. Legs still need a second to correct themselves, so I more-or-less hobble over and pass the other pouch over. Well, more like I have to push it in my brother's face for him to see it, but he takes it and navigates the opening to his lips quickly.

"Agh, _fuck_ ," he coughs out the words. I'm pretty much doing the same. Can't even find the reason to stop him and his choice words. I just want to breath and get rid of the taste. Plus, okay, I might feel somewhat similar to what he's preaching. " _Fuck this bread!_ "

"Let's," one sec, need to cough, "let's get off the road." We've stopped player traffic. No one seemed to mind – we were quite the show. Probably even more so as the nimble young woman – me – pulls the large monster to the side.

We wait a minute. Two. Three. Just catching our breath. And all the while, our suffering was still a spectacle.

"Jon, after careful consideration and testing, I've concluded that, _maybe_ , black bread is disgusting." No, really? I can't even laugh as Ethan, in some unparalleled way, managed to keep his bread held and lift it in triumph to the sun before casually letting it drop to the dirt. It dissipated into light pieces, kind of like how those boars went earlier: dramatic and without a sign that it was even there to begin with.

I'd say it was too good an end for something so horrible.

My own piece fell some point during the first gag session. I wasn't going to miss it, no question of that. It fell around…

"Huh."

Now that's unexpected.

I watch the spectacle. And I can't believe it.

It's funny, though my laugh comes out more like a bark with a cough mixed into it. Still, that's good stuff.

It gets Ethan's attention. "What?"

I'm still laughing. It's coming out stronger. I point to where we were, past a few players who decided they themselves were going to enjoy themselves on the silliness of the mid-road shenanigans.

My brother followed my finger. "You've got to be shitting me."

"Language." He's pushing it.

Standing in the center of a makeshift circle, five players start to cry and spatter themselves around. Coughing and gagging as their eyes start to water. They seem to be finding it remarkably difficult to breath. Some were on their knees while others tried to keep themselves steady and tall. They were struggling and fighting, and it became all too obvious what it was from down at our point on the side.

In one player's hand, more than half-a-loaf of black bread had been bitten clean off.

It was much funnier to watch the struggle now. Entertainment via stupid players being stupid. I'll admit, I kinda love it. "I think we started something," Ethan's enjoying this much more than me, cackling through Wick's mouth like a madman.

Can't say I really disagree with him.

'Black Bread Swallowing.' Can we get a patent on that? Maybe some t-shirts made?

I laugh at my own stupid joke as Ethan passed me a bit more bread, nudging it to my side. Can't say I really want anything more to do with it, but I imagine I've taken the worst of it. Temptation to just toss it like it's gonna bite me is mighty tempting, but I ignore that wise part of me and slowly, carefully, nibble into the side.

Much more manageable.

Still tasted like burnt toast and ash, but it was controllable. Take a swipe of water after and it didn't bother so much.

Gotta give credit where credit is due. The sensory tools for food are excellent.

Praise Kayaba, my pain is all his fault.

"Bread, water," I raise the bread, staring straight to the stricken, coughing players that continued to gather an ever-increasing band of viewers, "and entertainment. Don't say I never take you anywhere nice."

Successful bad joke earns me some small laughs, mixed in with a cough. Ethan lifts his water to me, tapping the tops in a makeshift 'cheers' before focusing on a new set of 'contenders' moving to the center of the black bread circle, answering the roaring cheers and enthusiasm that beckoned, as best I can guess, for them to bite that bread like it was the end of the world.

\

 **TB – J**

\

"On your left!" Bring sword to snout, a shallow cut but the health of the canine dips. Headshot, I guess.

"Got him!" As far as brutalities go, seeing a seven-foot pale creature plunge its knife down a wolf's head, twist, and stop the thing in its tracks with a very nasty critical is something I could have lived without seeing. But the knife did its job, I can't bar that, but the excited cheer and laugh that came from Ethan would probably be a little unnerving to think about post fight. I really hope my brother doesn't start to think learning how to use a knife in real world is an idea to follow.

" _Warrgh!"_

I once had a dog. A German Shepard who mom named 'Wayne.' Best friend I had growing up, loved to lick your face and have his stomach scratched. Protective to a fault, too.

These Dire Wolves remind me of him. Once I got passed the sharper teeth, the white and brown colored fur, the red eyes and its general unpleasantness, it wasn't all too different. I have a soft spot for dogs, I guess. Still needed to cut them down because Ethan, seeking something more enticing, prize-worthy and challenging then the Blue Boars, took us a little further into the plains. No surprise we'd find more enemies. Stronger enemies. But I figured they'd be small in number before we raised ourselves to larger groupings.

I think Ethan thought the same. So, when the six Dire Wolves came, 'aggroed' just by the look of us, we weren't given much chance to talk or think before the fighting started.

It wasn't all bad. Bit of health down, a couple surprises here and there, but there's only two left to go.

And yes, it was a challenge.

They're smarter than the boars. Better tactics, hit-and-run moves, sharper attacks and aren't nearly so easy to counter against. Plus, they're fast and skinny. That's hard to cut or stab. Even their growling and barks are somewhat intimidating.

Oh, an opening.

" _Aeeigh…_ "

One tried to go for Ethan's legs. Eyes too narrowed on one thing. Didn't keep its eyes on the both of us.

" _Raugh!_ "

Agh, that works two ways! Didn't keep my eye on the other, now it's on my back! It's on my back! And the teeth at my neck and the claws in my spine! My health is dwindling, almost to half – yellow!

Then, the pressure's off.

"Got you, ya fuck!" Ethan has my back. As my own wolf dies with a whimper, I don't wait to turn to see what's happened.

Ethan's got the wolf down. Tackled and struggling to get up and move, but my brother won't have it. If I thought the previous kill was something troubling, the way that dagger tore into the underbelly and twisted and sawed its way out was definitely more gruesome. Sure, the blood's very digital and nothing spews out. Just a red scar of sorts. Long and jagged. Can't even tell if it's deep or aggravated. It just doesn't look like a real stomach being carved.

Still doesn't take away that, yeah, it's a pretty gruesome way to go.

" _Bwee…"_

 **Result**

 **Exp – 444**

 **Cor – 480**

 **Items – 7**

There's a long pause after that.

'That' being a very good choice of word to describe…all of 'that.'

I mean, _ho-ly crap._

All of that! All of it!

Ethan falls to the side, breathing quick. Panting, almost. I'm not sure if we even need to breath in the game, but we still do. It's natural. And there is air here, even if it's virtual. Seems to help calm down the beating in my chest, which even still I have to wonder if it's my real heart or the virtual one of the game.

I'm overthinking this. I'll just fall down to the grass now.

The grass is nice. I can work with it.

Ethan's quiet for a moment, still breathing deep. The skinny chest of his character doesn't expand much, but there's movement so I know he isn't dead. Virtually, at least.

Then, "Huuuh…"

I laugh. Can't help it. I sound tired, but that's a quiet relief after _that_.

"Yeah," it's an accurate interpretation of how I feel, "yeah…"

Conversation dies for a moment. Which is fine, we kind of earned our moment of peace. And the grass is really nice.

"Sorry," Ethan starts again. Less heavy breathing, "about…yeah." Non-committed shrug of the hand to former area of Dire Wolf corpses. "Got carried away."

"It's fine." It is. Seriously. Harsh kills aside, this is a game. Ethan might as well have been walking around in a monster costume. He's killed in games plenty of times, this isn't something new. Heck, I've cheered him on for his success in beating something or someone online who proved troubling. Those were some cool times.

I shouldn't have to remind myself of this. My brother isn't a monster. Never has been, never will be. Actions in game don't translate to real life. "It's no problem. It's…not like I expect you to go ax-crazy for real or anything." 'Psychotic' isn't usually a word I'd describe him with. "Besides, that was…I mean, did you see that? A wolf jumped on my back!" I laugh to myself. Bit forced, but mostly to relax with. That wolf was real. Sounds, growls, claws, even felt heavy over my shoulders.

On a pure appreciation level, that was some realistic stuff.

"Wolf probably thought he could make you his bitch," oh no, that's the smart-mouth Ethan smile right there. "Bit wimpy, bit skinny…yeah, I could see you being the submissive one. Top grade bitch quality, I hear."

Oh, Jesus. "Lan-langu-hoo-hoo," oh no, "langua-hoo-ha-ha-haah!" I shouldn't – I'll only encourage him!

Laying on the grass. Covered in something that might be virtual sweat or my own imagination getting the better of me. Tired, in some manner I can't say how but, even virtually, it's affecting me. Hearing across the hills other players giving there all in fighting pigs and rabid dogs, shouting and cheering in parties or small groupings. Enjoying the feeling of the sun, even as it lowers off to the corner. It was almost going on four, the last we checked before the Dire Wolves. Almost time for a dinner break from all this.

And still, I'm laughing. Laughing and smiling. And I just can't find it in me to stop.

This is a really excellent game.

\

 **TB – J**

\

"Ha, noob."

"Come on, he's a kid."

"And that's a Blue Boar. Which is doing him sideways like a blind potato. Therefore, noob."

"There, see? Got him in the side."

"Yeah? Well, watch and – ah, right in the kisser!"

"Ouch. Kid needs some help…and his friends aren't exactly backing him up."

"They're more noob then he is. You can't feel pain in the game, noobs! Get in there!"

"I don't think they understand you. Maybe if you shout a little louder."

"Maybe I will. When you think about it, isn't every language just English spoken very slowly and very loudly? They got what I was–hey, check out that guy. Trying to be all sneaky with a two-handed hammer…"

Sitting on one of the hills, overlooking a particularly lively zone of Blue Boars and players, Ethan and I decided to make a little game out of watching some players start on their first enemies. It was an awkward display for some, others looked like they were just 'casualing' (Ethan's words, not mine), and some just carved through the blue pigs like they weren't even trying.

"He's a Beta tester. Calling it now."

A few players were already moving to the forested areas past the low-level plains. Not sure what sorts of enemies were there yet. We thought about jumping into it, but after the wolves, and because it was getting close to dinner, we thought about just lazing around before heading in. Getting an eye for the competition, as Ethan said. Translation: I'm pretty sure he's going to go on his first player killing spree tomorrow. Might even shanghai me into service.

I'd prefer it that way. Not exactly a pretty picture of my brother, in Wick avatar costume, murdering me with a knife. I could do without the nightmare.

"Ah, they got it. Red health and everything. That's disappointing." He referred to the trio who had difficulties with their boar.

"Why? Did you want to see them get beat?" I ask.

"I wanted to point and laugh at them. I mean, seriously? A Blue Boar? Those are trash mob monsters _at best_!" We're a judgmental pair. "Egh, screw it. These guys are putting me off my game. Ready to go?"

I did, actually. Call in a break, grab something to eat, maybe go and check some stuff out around Tokyo. That was my plan, at least. Pretty sure Ethan's is to just jump right back after he has his personals taken care of. Do a little 'single player,' maybe. Which probably meant I'd have to jump back in too because there's no way I'm leaving him in an apartment alone in a foreign country.

And…okay, maybe some night gaming didn't sound too bad, either. If this place is beautiful in the day, I can only imagine it at night.

"Yeah, I'll be out in a sec. I'm just gonna watch the sun for a bit longer, if that's cool with you." Didn't get sunsets like these back home. Too many trees, didn't know any good hills, and there's always the feeling like there's something I could be doing instead of wasting my time on the sun. Namely work, watching Jaune, or…more work. My social life needs work.

The slender Wick avatar stands up, stretching his virtual muscles out. I might have imagined it, but I swear I heard some actual joints crack. That's realistic. "Alright, see you on the flipside. Gonna order some room service, want anything?"

"Meh, surprise me. Whatever sounds good." He'd probably not screw me over. Probably.

"You got it."

I could hear the familiar chime of the menu opening up. The sound of the menu being scrolled through as Ethan perused towards the Settings icon. A large gear at the bottom of everything. Didn't check it out myself, but aside from an option page which I couldn't read to a help icon which, again, couldn't because Japanese is an evil, evil language, there's only the logout feature. A door with an arrow through it.

We were careful not to press that too soon after jumping in.

 _Beep._

I settled myself down. It's warm in here. Nice breeze. Bit of fighting in the background. Not to shabby for a place to relax.

 _Beep._

I look up to Ethan. Still here. Still on his menu.

 _Beep beep._

Ha. He's having trouble with the menu. "I think you're supposed to swipe it. Like a touch screen."

"Shut up. It's not doing anything."

 _Beep beep beep._

…Nope. Nothing. "Give it a sec." I can practically read the retort on his face but he listens, staring at the menu. A good thirty seconds pass and still nothing. "Huh. Think we gotta be in town to logout?" It would make sense, I think. Don't remember everything, but I think that's a rule with some games.

"Maybe?" Ethan didn't sound so sure, throwing the menu to the side. He even looked annoyed. "Kind of a dumb game choice, though. This map is huge. If I'm in the middle of it, does that mean I have to run back all the way just to take a real-world piss?" Wording aside, I could see how that could get annoying quick.

Well, if I'm going to have to logout eventually, probably going to need to start making my way into town, so…

"Wanna head back?" I ask, lifting up already.

Ethan's still annoyed but it wasn't like he had much of a choice.

"Yeah. I guess."

\

 **TB – J**

\

 _Beepbeepbeepbeepbeepbeepbeepbeepbeepbeepbeepbeepbeepbeepbeepbeep_ -

For the love of- "Stop that."

"It's not working." His annoyance was palpable.

"I've noticed. Stop."

"I'm trying. Can't though. I think I might be addicted."

"I hear a good smack to the back of the head can break any bad habit."

"Ah. Dad?"

"Dad."

"Right." His beeping stopped. Though, looking around, not really sure it mattered.

The town proved largely unhelpful. Walked through the gates, stepped onto the streets, moved around with the menu open and the logout key pressed almost consistently. Been going on like this for the last five minutes. I even got my own menu out, for how much good that offered. No dice, no luck, still in the game.

"You think this has anything to do with the servers?" Not sure if that's even the right thing to ask, or if those would even prove an issue to the game to begin with, but it didn't hurt to get a second opinion.

Ethan shook his head, passing the menu off as the interest in 'beeps' faded. "Don't know. Pretty sure we'd see something like a notice or popup if there was a problem."

He's probably right. I mean, not being able to leave the game is a pretty serious issue to just leave without an announcement.

Still, looking around, it's hard to not notice something's off.

We're not the only ones with the menu out. Too many people tapping the logout feature to miss, too many faces which scream 'what's going on' to ignore, and the surrounding beeps are enough to drive me insane without my brother adding to the mess of noise. Obviously, we're not the only pair with issues, which in a weird way is a comfort but doesn't get rid of the problem. This is new territory for gaming; in any other game, I could just shut off the platform or go away from the screen until problem fixes itself. But Sword Art Online, in a figure of speech, is kind of in my head. I can't even make a motion to remove the NerveGear. All physical functions are stalled whilst in FullDive. A smart thing to add, 'cause I really wouldn't want to know that my body was swinging an invisible sword around while I'm trying to cut down a monster in the game, but the downsides are starting to become obvious.

Can't ask if anyone knows what's going on. Can't even make out heads or tails what everyone's talking about or saying, just that there's a wave of anxiety going around. The language barrier between us and them has been more evident in the span of the last few hours in-game then the whole of our vacation.

"Got any ideas?" I ask, mostly to make small talk. I'm not worried. I'm not. But this is kinda outside my area of know.

"Nah, nothing." Not exactly reassuring, but nothing I didn't expect.

"Think anyone else has a clue what to do?"

"Do they look like they have a clue?"

Love it when he answers my question with another question. "No, I guess they don't."

"Hmm. Well, shit," Ethan lets himself laugh. Bit awkward with everyone looking confused and worried around us. "First day in the first virtual reality online game, which turns out to be the epitome of beastage, and it glitches out so I can't even leave. Can't tell if that's awesome as hell or a pain in the ass."

Langu-ah, screw it, there's more important things right now. "Well…let's not worry about it just yet," I try to pacify. "Probably just a thing with the servers, you know. Everyone in here at once. Might just a bug or…I can't imagine it'll take much longer to-"

Bells start to ring. A loud, echoing sound.

And then, there's light.

\

 **TB – J**

\

I'm not really sure what just happened.

We're in the Central Courtyard now. Where we first came in. We were by the gates a second ago, then there was this light and bells-

Oh. We're not alone.

Okay, elaboration: bursts of light are pouring out from the stone floorings everywhere. That's not exactly an exaggeration, it's almost blinding.

To my left, right, behind me, in front of me, everywhere around. Great covers of gleam and shine are quite literally coming out of nowhere. And weirdest of all? People are in them. Other players, actually, who seem just as thrown off by what's happening as I am. Can't speak for my brother, who seemed to have taken a similar trip as I did and beamed up beside me, but I'm thinking his 'what the schnitzel' face isn't just for show.

"Jon?" I hear Ethan over the light's sound effects as they sprout players all around us.

"Yeah?"

"The fuck is going on?"

"No idea." Maybe a game event? Do online games have those?

"This is stroking my weird meter a bit, just want to get that out there. Should I be concerned?" Can't really disagree with him. The bell, which I just figured out is from the short clock tower at the center of this place, is ringing something a bit unsettling. I can't say why but there's definitely an unorthodox feeling with everyone here. The shadow of this place, the timing, the curious looks on everyone's faces. Any other time, I might give props for the facial recognition style that the game allows, but I am not gamer enough for that right now.

"Just give it a sec," gotta remain calm, "just stick by me, 'kay?"

"Shoot, don't have to tell me twice."

The lights stopped now. And boy, there's a crowd here. Whole bunch of armed and armored gamers from her to the other side of the yard. Almost feels cramped. Glad I'm not claustrophobic, or this might just be enough to set my uncomfortable levels to whole new-

The bells stopped.

" _O-mi-nous._ "

Ethan just had to comment. Players around start to notice the silence, going quiet themselves. Waiting for something that I swear I can feel is about to happen.

Then, a new sound came over us. From the sky, now. A blinking red symbol – a hexagon – beat with the new alarm. There's words in it, but I'm having trouble making them out.

Actually, that's because I expected Japanese. Can't really blame me, this game has been flip-flopping between them for hours.

Instead, this is English.

The word is simple and in all uppercase letters.

 **WARNING**

 **WARNING**

 **WARNING**

 **WARNING**

 **SYSTEM ANNOUNCEMENT**

 **WARNING**

 **SYSTEM ANNOUNCEMENT**

 **SYSTEM ANNOUNCEMENT**

 **SYSTEM ANNOUNCEMENT**

 **WARNING**

The hexagon began to multiply.

At each of its corners, a new one appeared. 'System Announcement,' 'warning,' 'system announcement,' 'warning.' Continuous, expanding, surrounding the courtyard quickly in a quick, red dome. But by the way of the nighttime light began to fall over the area, the red seemed to darken as it's semi-transparent makeup darkened itself over, making the red seem to darken considerably. A shadow over us in dark maroon.

It got quickly got worse.

Red liquid – no, I'm not going to sugarcoat it. _Blood_ began to pour out from the corners. Washing over the sky area, bubbling and pouring loudly for everyone to here. I half expected it to fall on some unexpectant players, but it stopped some feet about as if it were falling into a glass.

It swiveled and filled. Blue sparks and shines of electricity surrounded it. A shape began to make itself out from the liquid, taking form and slowly rising upwards.

"Holy _fuck_."

The blood finished pouring. The shape took a stance. Instead of liquids, now stood a figure. An actual, taller-than-the-buildings person loomed over us from above. Arms and legs were there, but covered in clothes and gloves. A long red cloak, similar to the shade of the sky and warning symbols, hid the figure's person. Even their face was hidden by a hood, shaded over and invisible.

He stood there for a long moment. Questions and curious mumbles started to make their way through the crowds. Concerned sounds I couldn't understand, but didn't have trouble figuring out that this wasn't normal.

Then the cloaked man spoke.

"What do you think he's saying?" I hadn't a clue. Japanese ominous speaker. No concept of understanding whatever was coming out. But I bet it was ominous, 'cause the voice was definitely echoing like some sort of dark villain of sorts. Kinda fit the blood-self-making theme he had going for him.

"No idea, but I could really go for a translati-"

Oh.

A popup.

 **Alternative Language Found**

 **Translating…**

 **Translating…**

 **Translating…**

 **Translation Complete!**

 **/\**

 **\/**

 **"Attention, Players!"**

 **"I welcome you to my world!"**

"Oh, subtitles. God bless this game." Ah, good. Ethan's being filled in too.

The ominous man speaks.

 **"My name is Kayaba Akihiko. And as of this moment, I am in control of this world."**

Oh.

Game announcement from the game maker himself. And with an interesting, if bit scary, opening.

Neat.

 **"I'm sure most of you have already noticed an item missing from your main menu.  
The logout button. Let me assure you, this is not a defect of the game.  
I repeat, this is not a defect."**

Ah. Game status update. Clear up some concerns.

Gotta give the guy points for clearing it up himself. That's dedication.

Speaking of, the red avatar was moving through the motions for the logout function with his own menu. A personal showing of how to properly logout, I assume. The guy doesn't cut corners, that's for certain.

 **"This is how Sword Art Online was meant to be."**

"…Huh?"

 **"You cannot log yourselves out of SAO. And no one from the outside will be able to shut  
down or remove the NerveGear from your head. If anyone attempts to do so, a  
transmitter inside the NerveGear will discharge a microwave signal into your skull."**

 **"Destroying your brain, and ending your life."**

\

 **TB – J**

\

Kayaba, or his big, floating red avatar at least, stopped for moment.

Letting us process…that. All of that.

Murmuring. There was murmuring. Lots of it. All around me.

"Jon? Jon, am I reading…"

I could feel Ethan look over my shoulders, reading my own text. I didn't reply back. I just waited for the cloaked man to keep talking and let the text update itself.

 **"Despite my warning, the families and friends of some of the players have  
attempted removing the NerveGear. An unfortunate decision, to say the least."**

 **"As a result, the game now has 213 less players than when it began.  
They've been both deleted from Aincrad and the real world."**

I stare at the number for a long moment, then look to the red avatar.

With a wave of one of his large hands, popups begin to appear around Kayaba's figure.

 **"As you can see, international media outlets have round-the-clock coverage of everything."**

 **"Including the deaths."**

Those popups. YouTube, CNN, some videos of newsmen and women talking beside images of ambulances and NerveGear photos. Photos of Japanese boys, girls, men and women of several ages. Crying people on streets, behind yellow tape as people gather around a blocked off area. Live coverage on all of this. I think I even saw the White House briefing room with a man at a podium.

Breathe. Breathe. _Breathe._

 **"At this point, it's safe to assume the likelihood of a NerveGear being  
removed is minimal, at best. I hope this brings you a little comfort as  
you try to clear the game. It's important that you remember the following:  
there is no longer anyway to revive someone within the game.  
If your HP drops to zero, your avatar will be deleted from the system. Forever."**

 **"And the NerveGear will simultaneously destroy your brain."**

Blue Boar. Dire Wolves. Ethan taking a hit.

Jesus Christ.

The popups disappear from around the red avatar. A new image – the floating castle of Aincrad, the world of the game – appears over us.

 **"There is only one way for a player to escape now. You must clear the game."**

 **"Right now, you are gathered on Floor One. The lowest level of Aincrad.  
** **If you can get through the dungeon and defeat the boss, you may advance to the next floor.  
** **Defeat the boss on Floor One-Hundred and you will clear the game."**

"The fuck is he saying?" Ethan. Only a whisper. "This is bullshit. Complete, fucking bullshit."

It was something even I knew from reading. One-hundred floors? The Beta testers didn't make even a dent in the floor completions, and they had a month to play.

Months.

 **"Last, but not least, I've placed a little present in the item storage of every player."**

 **"Please, have a look."**

Ethan was already doing it. Frantic, at that.

I followed after. One swipe was all it took to open it, of course.

Item storage. A single, Japanese texted item. Could have been a bomb or face-hugging alien, for all I know.

I press it, and the something falls into my hand.

"It's a mirror."

More light again. To my left, right, back and front. With screams following.

I barely notice. Barely care. The light is taking me, too.

\

 **Numbers of players remaining in Sword Art Online:**

 **9,787**

 **Major Changes in Jon's Character:**

 **Gained 'One-Handed Sword' Skill!**

 **Major Changes in Ethan's Character:**

 **Gained 'One-Handed Dagger' Skill!**

\

 **Author's Note: AND WE ARE IN SAO OFFICIALLY!**

 **Jesus! Ten chapters. Who would've thought it'd take that long?**

 **Next Update : 8/01/2017**


	11. The First Day XI

Title: Two Brothers

Summary: We don't speak the language. We can't read the words. The menu is a troll. Half the time something wants to kill us and the other half is us trying to kill it. In short: Sword Art Online is the worst thing ever. OC Duo First-Person Narrative

/

 **TB – E**

/

This is fucked up.

Well, I mean, in general. Aside from all the flashing lights in my eyes. They're a bit off-putting, at first, but kind of a small issue in the grand scheme of the last five minutes that have otherwise turned this place into a literal definition of 'fuckity-fucking-fuck-fuck-fuck.'

I don't drop the big 'this is fucked up' card lightly. I think it's warranted, though, when another piece of light slowly begins to rise from beneath my own feet, taking over and feeling like it's attempting to grab hold of everything from my toes to the top of my head in a vice. Then deciding to twist. Hard.

Can't feel pain. That's part of the game mechanics. But I feel…aggressed. Like being given the mother-of-all noogies. It doesn't hurt bad, but the annoyance of it all makes me want to punch someone's lights out. Add-in how it seems to be spreading everywhere from my top to my bottom and, yeah, I feel a little uncomfortable.

Again, barring the already stupidly insane talk made by the big red asshole above, this all hasn't exactly been a trip through the park. Oh, and don't even get me started on whatever this popup is spouting! Because, frankly…I got nothing!

Everything is fucked up!

Fast as the light came, blinded me, and annoyed my skin to no end, so did it leave as quickly. It's a relief but for only a second, 'cause now I remember I'm still surrounded by blood red skies, a blood red robe-wearing game maker who is performing a song and dance number that my mind is all for passing on and giving the bird towards, and understanding that I am now short again.

Wait, that last one?

Short. Or shorter, at least. Shorter then Wick.

Kinda got used to being seven feet tall. Now I'm not.

Why?

"Ethan?"

Jon's talki-oh, wait a second…that's not a girly tone.

Attention to the right. There's Jon. Not Mulan-Miller-avatar-girl-Jon, I mean actual, tall, brother-of-mine Jon Miller. Wearing the previous green and white clothes of Miller, but stretched out and fitting him easily.

Skin tone. Height. Hair. Body size. All Jon.

"You're a guy again." All I could think to say then. Didn't even seem Jon noticed, looking himself over right then. One of his fingers tapped his chest, his arm, then the mirror that still loitered in his fingers.

Wait, so is mine. How'd I not noti-doesn't matter.

Mirror image. Longer hair. Average face. Nothing-special eyes. Basic nose. White teeth.

"Holy shit." Holy shit, it's me!

I look at Jon, who looks at me. Yep, still Jon's face. I turn to look around and, yeah, weirdness factors have started to escalate. The white flashes of light have stopped, leaving only a very scared bunch of other faces left behind.

Where before, the designs of characters and figures were different, exciting, vibrant and full, now there only seem to be a bunch of average faces all around.

Japanese. A whole lot of Japanese.

Everyone's normal, real-life faces.

"Ethan, what's going on here?" I didn't answer. How could I? I didn't have a clue about any of this.

Jon's still poking himself. It's weird; his height, build, face – the detail to them all is like looking at the real him. Except, obviously, this is a game. That's not possible. Except, now, SAO is giving the middle finger to the impossible and deciding to just go with it. But how could it be accurate? How could it know anything abou-

Oh.

Argus NerveGear Full Body Connection Process.

Tap your toes. Tap your arms. Tap your chest. Tap everything.

The NerveGear registers electric currents being sent through the brain to the body with unparalleled precision. I followed every direction. I followed them and I was very careful. I was going to be very accurate. Precise to the point of being as absolutely flawless as possible. No errors, no mistakes, no mess-ups to ruin the experience.

I gave them everything.

But my face? Jon's face? Everyone's?

The NerveGear encompasses the head almost entirely. The face including. I think I remember facial recognition something-or-another being put into it so it could match real facial expressions to characters as anyone wearing the Gear would make them in real life. But, seriously, there's no way it couldn't be this preci-

No. No, it could. It definitely could. I won't lie to myself on that.

This is me. Face and all and everything.

Why? Why this? Why any of this?

New text.

" **Right now, you're probably wondering why? Why would Kayaba Akihiko,  
developer of Sword Art Online and NerveGear, do this? Ultimately, my goal was a simple one:  
the reason I created Sword Art Online was to control the fate of a world of my design."**

" **As you can see, I have achieved my goal."**

To be a God.

" **This marks the end of the tutorial and the official launch of Sword Art Online."**

" **Players. I wish you the best of luck."**

The red avatar started to fade. Actually, it was more like he started to glitch out. His body started to turn to purple smoke, mixed in with a glitching effect like the system couldn't handle his presence any longer. The smoke rose back towards the blood sky, seeping through the cracks of warning-shapes.

When the last bit of the avatar was gone, the red ceiling vanished.

Everything was back to normal. Visually, at least.

/

 **TB – E**

/

What's there to say? What could anyone say?

Actually, no one was talking. Not yet. Because…what's there to say?

I'm repeating myself.

The mirror's gone. Disappeared, though I don't remember if it broke into shards or left when Kayaba did. If I still had it, I think I would take a look to see if my face matched everyone's.

Stunned.

Hate the word, but it's accurate. Everyone looks like they just took the largest dump of their lives, right into their pants. And no one cared. Not even a little.

We're all just staring where Kayaba left us.

I need a second. Need to think. Think harder than before. Everything I know about everything.

Death by NerveGear. Possible? Microwave to the brain. High quality transceivers run off them. Very heavy. Very expensive. Very powerful. Would need large power supply to do so. Battery in the NerveGear suitable. Very large and sustaining. Could keep device powered for over a month without stop. High-powered burst could essentially shut down motor and vital functions throughout body. Miniature bomb. Even chinstrap holding head to gear is electronic. Possible tampering could mean death. No, almost certainly means death. Rip gear off quickly? Gear could be pressure sensitive. Would expect it. Hard grip at sides, death. Slow removal, loss of individual's electric signals, death.

What if the power of the Gear just ran out?

Kayaba's smart. Possible solution with battery limiter. Battery falls below 50% = death signal. Not a pleasant thought, didn't leave NerveGear plugged into oulet with first dive. Nothing to worry about immediately though. Still concerning. Someone will plug it in, surely.

First dive. My body?

What about my body? Possibly NerveGear signals received and found in room. Possibly taken after diving in. Hopefully taken to facility to hold me. Scary thought if neither of us are found. What would kill us first, dehydration or game? Would poor real body effect playability? Would that kill us in-game?

Playability? Playing.

Are we playing? Technically yes, right now, but…one-hundred floors?

Not possible. That's just not possible.

And we can die here. Death in-game, death in-life. Death by a lot of things.

The screams are starting.

/

 **TB – E**

/

Well, screams and shouts.

Screams from girls. They echo. Shouting from both genders, who think making noise is gonna change anything as they bunch together and fight towards the center of the courtyard, thinking that'll help them be heard. And then there are a few like me, who can't seem to get the signals from brain to feet just right and don't know what to make of anything.

"Ethan. Ethan!"

That's why it's good to have a big brother.

I'm hauled to the side by the shoulder. Rough, but nothing pulled (can I pull anything in here?). Jon's shaking me. Not hard but enough to get rid of my 'LittleBrotherMiller' system stall.

"Jon!" I yell. "We're fucked!"

Need more sentence structure and words, but good start. Never aimed to be a motivational speaker and I don't think that's a good way to start an inspirational speech either.

I shake him back. He doesn't seem to care. People are pressing up around us, trying to cut through towards the center of courtyard. Jon's big, though. Don't know how well his build impacted those around us, especially that logic should be that his bulk is only a matter of pixels, ones-and-zeroes, but few seemed willing to beat themselves at him to try and move forward faster than they did me, so that's a plus.

Huh. That's almost ten-thousand players. Stuck here. And we're just a pair in the crowd.

Still, Jon doesn't let go.

"Come on!"

Oh, more tugging. But at least it's away from the crowd of insanity, so another plus to add on over the massive negative that was everything. Past screaming adults, crying kids, some petrified others who didn't even seem to register a couple of faces rushing past everyone. Jon trusts me to, at least, keep up. Doesn't stop him from looking back every five seconds to make sure I'm still there and, while I'd probably find this irritating any other day, I am finding it to be a 100% appropriate action at this time.

Protective brother instincts activated.

Sorry, I should be focusing now.

The streets are empty. First time since the game opened and I can see from one side of the street to the other. Venders are still around, smiling and standing without a care or worry or even conscious idea to what's happening a couple blocks down. NPCs. Not alive or even aware. Just figures with bits of code to allow some modicum resemblance of life and not much else.

Their smiles are almost teasing.

We keep running. It's quiet out here. People are still clustered by the center of town. I can hear the shouts even from here. Only the tapping of our shoes and the sound of our breath is any clue that there are some real, actual people away from the center of town.

"Wait!"

I do.

Jon comes to a stop in the walkway, looking down one of the alleyways cutting over to another part of the town.

"Come here," he tells me, slightly out of breath. Not sure if we can even run out of breath in game, but I don't test that now. Even my breath feels a little harsher than normal. I don't do the long-running thing in the real world, but I'm no slouch. I sprint, it's fun.

Jon looks both ways of the alley. I follow, not sure why, but if he's on the fritz then maybe some policeman survival training is kicking-

And now his shirt's off.

You know, I'd usually take this as a pretty weird and uncomfortable sort of thing to do. Especially after everything. But once the shirt is gone, things take a little weirder turn right after. Namely, by the green thing wrapped around my brother's chest.

"Girl characters come with bras." He tells me, quick and annoyed. I can see that now. An extra stretched bra over my brother's shoulders and arms. It is the weirdest thing in the entire world and I need bleach to wash my brain out. Jon trying to reach over and unclip it might have been funny if the weirdness of the world of Aincrad (and myself) was not at all-time highs. I think this is what people call 'being stumped.'

Takes him a second to reach over to his back, a good fifteen to get a solid hold of the material, then with a tug he just decides to rip the material off.

The bra's strap breaks, slackens in his hand, then disappears in a familiar flash of pixels and light.

"You killed it." My voice sounds tired. Because I'm tired. Very, very tired. I can see that now.

"It had it coming," Jon takes in a deep breath. I guess bras are constricting. Then he threw back on his shirt. "Does this game sell underwear?"

Okay. That's a question I don't think has ever been asked before ever. "No idea."

Not an answer Jon seemed to like. "Alright, we'll need to find something. I have to change…" he trails off. Doesn't even take me a second to figure out what he's saying.

I was a guy character. I came with underwear and, VERY weirdly, gender-specific anatomy (how was this ever rated 'T'?!).

Jon was a girl. A girl with a bra. And a girl with, most likely, underwear.

Panties. My brother is now wearing panties.

Screw it, Kayaba, kill me now. First in-game victim, right here. This world isn't worth living in anymore.

"Ethan?"

Oh, conversation. "Yeah?"

Jon takes a second to think. "Was…what do you think about what, what Kayaba said? Think he was telling the truth?"

Oh. Hmm.

I think Jon already has a mind on what the situation is. The truth of everything that's happening. But he's still asking me.

I take a second to think how I should answer him. Bite the bullet is probably best. No sugarcoating. Give it to him straight.

There's some boxes beside us, I sit down on one and get comfortable. They're probably here just for aesthetic purposes, but my legs are feeling very tired now so this is a welcome relief.

Then, I lay it out flat.

All the details I know about NerveGear. Some stuff he probably knows, some he doesn't. Some of my thoughts, what could be true or false, but mostly the idea that we are now sleeping with real and deadly helmets in the real world is most likely a very real, very possible reality. Whether death in the game means death in real life thing is something I couldn't say for certain, but I'm not about to say one way or the other. Couldn't pay me to test that theory.

That's about ten minutes of me talking.

Jon's pacing. Back and forth, back and forth. That's usually a very, very bad thing.

But he listens to me.

"Christ," is all I get out of him. Probably as close anyone will ever get resembling a bad word. Might just take the end of the world for my brother to curse. Which, usually, would make me laugh at his stupid moral. But I'm not feeling the funny right now.

"Jon," I start, "are…man, are we in trouble?" I can feel my chest tighten. This is kinda scary. No, not kinda. This is the Hunger Games mixed into Game of Thrones with a little bit of every gamer's wet dream thrown in.

On paper, sounds awesome. Reality isn't always so beautiful, though.

Jon takes a long second to think over that. Over everything. He shakes his head. "No. No, we're not." Fuck, he's lying. "Everything…everything will be fine." Fuck fuck fuck. "I, I bet you people are working right now to get us out of here. Engineers. Scientists. Game people. I…I wouldn't worry too much, now. Okay?" He's nodding his head. The move translates as 'believe it, Jon, believe that it's true and he will too.' "Few hours. Few hours, and we'll be out of here. Definitely."

Rambling Jon isn't good.

I'm not going to give him the benefit of the doubt that I believe him for a second. "Jon, what should we do?" I make my point across with my hand going to my side. My clothing my look like crap, thank you Wick avatar's scary design, but the knife is still there. Still wrapped around me. The handle feels much better in my real hands now than it did.

Silver lining out of all this shit.

"Sit tight. Stay out of anyone's way. Trust me, okay, we're fine."

You're still pacing, you lying- "Jon, we are in trouble!" Harsh realities need to be shouted. Not denied. "Now, what are we gonna do?"

Jon stares down at me. "Nothing. We are not going to do a…we're not going to do _anything._ " Frustrated Jon isn't nearly as scary as scared and crazy Jon. I've seen this face a few times before – practically a comfort in all of this.

I already have an argument ready at the tip of my tongue. I have a really good telling off that's just begging to be said. Because this isn't a good situation and denying it isn't a smart move. Screw the stages of denial, this could be very bad and saying otherwise isn't going to help anyone. Hell, Jon's the one who taught me that! Ignoring problems and pushing them under the bed is not solving anything!

Oh, I _really_ wanted to say the words. But something caught my eye.

"Jon?" I point down the alley.

We have company.

/

 **TB – E**

/

A girl.

Short, skinny, hair tied in a pair of pigtails (how did the game manage to scan her pigtails?), not much to say in any sort of growth from what I could see. Elementary kid, I guess. Little else to say or really anything that threatening about her. It just caught my eye. Sitting down at the edges of the alley, knees bent close to her chest, hiding her face between them. Didn't seem to register that she wasn't alone or even being looked at.

Ah, but the benefits of being in a quiet, practically lifeless part of town. Even from here, I could hear the waterworks.

My first instinct in seeing a girl cry? _Scram_. If it's not my fault, it's not my problem. Let's take this conversation elsewhere and not deal with the background noise. I'm more than willing to give a piece of my mind when the 'woe-is-me' act is more than ten yards from us. Maybe a few hundred? Just to be sure I can't even remotely the loudest of female wailing.

But…morality. It's a pain in the ass and Jon's got it by the truckload.

I don't know whether he was hopped up on Superman comics before I was born, but he saw the girl and didn't even take a second to start making his way down to her. Looking more like a man on a mission then someone generally concerned about some no-name stranger crying.

Kill me. Just kill me, Kayaba.

"Miss?" Jon kneels down, trying to make himself about eye level with the girl. Still a bit taller than her, but the motion's the same. He does get her attention, and she does lift her eyes to him. "Miss, can I-"

That's as far as Jon got before the girl performed a sprint away into the streets.

"Really showing off the old 'Miller charm' there, bro." Batshit situation, emotionally distressed, big guy coming out of nowhere speaking another language down to her. Can't say I blame the girl one bit. I'm just thankful she didn't start screaming after that.

Jon stands up, sending me a look that my humor wasn't needed then glancing out onto the street. "Looks like some are starting to move."

The shouting was dying out over towards the courtyard but there were still some words. I could hear them, though not as easily as before. These guys though, the first leavers? They didn't look so hot.

I have Jon, so that's a comfort. But all these players – they're alone. Probably most without friends, not a clue on the first move to make, worried about dying if they ran into even a lucky enemy outside the walls, who just happened to crit in just the right amount of damage.

I got that. Even the thought of a Blue Boar is giving me some jitters.

"Still thinking we're alright?"

Jon ignores me, following the people with careful eyes as they walked away. I can't exactly read the look on his face, but Jon…he's concerned. He looks to the people, to where they're walking, then back to everyone. The numbers are starting to pile up. Where they're headed, I haven't a clue. But there's a stiffness to it all. Like no one's got a real clue what's happening or what to do. And it shows hard.

"Come on," Jon finally says, moving down the road, following the group of players.

I follow beside. "What happened to 'sitting tight' and 'staying out of anyone's way?'" There are no brakes on the snark train, and the snark train don't stop for no one. It's a coping mechanism.

"Jesus, do you have an off button? Plans change. Keep up and don't go wanderin' off. I don't want to lose you in all of this."

Wander off? Yeah, like I would. "You worried about somethin'?" Jon's got this look to him. Bothered, yeah, but it's not about me.

"Not sure." Jon's still looking over the players around. "Just got this feeling, I guess. Just…just keep your eyes peeled for anything bad, alright? I might need your help."

Bad? Like what?

This is Town of Beginnings. A safe zone. You can't die in any safe zone. Standard rules. No monsters, no danger, no worries. I couldn't stab Jon and do a lick of damage. Couldn't even stab myself and lose a sliver of health. As far as I'm concerned, this is as safe as safe can get.

Well, at least, that's how it was before.

Now? Hmm…

Scanning crowd.

\

 **Numbers of players remaining in Sword Art Online:**

 **9,787**

\

 **Next Update : 8/03/2017**


	12. The First Day XII

Title: Two Brothers

Summary: We don't speak the language. We can't read the words. The menu is a troll. Half the time something wants to kill us and the other half is us trying to kill it. In short: Sword Art Online is the worst thing ever. OC Duo First-Person Narrative

\

 **TB – J**

\

The Walking Dead.

That's an old show. Came on around when I was in middle school. Bunch of guys were talking about how awesome and gore-filled it was. Filled with kick-butt characters trying to survive a zombie apocalypse. With guns and mutilations and crossbows and all manner of die-hard action.

I'll admit, the pre-teen in me loved it.

Technically, I wasn't allowed to watch it. Mom gave me no end about how disgusting the show was to her. But I might have snuck some of it in when I could. It was violent and actiony, a combo I could definitely get behind. The thrill of it was compelling, the characters were pretty entertaining, and the zombies were downright nightmarish. Wasn't hard to see where the hype and fun was for kids my age. And if parents disapproved of it, that just made it ten times cooler.

Not sure if it's on anymore. Lost track of it after a while. But I do remember the zombies.

How they walked. Moved. No plan and barely a shift in expression. Dead.

These guys – these players – remind me of them. Minus the dismemberments and hunger for flesh, but the general lack aggressive moving or idea of what else to do but roam is eerily familiar.

At the edge of town, just within the borders and outside the wilds and plains, they're just walking. Some glance to the fake sky, where the sun is starting to settle. Others just kneel down, fetal position, or find a place to lay back against. There's some crying, some groaning, but most just quietly wait.

My brother and I find ourselves in a more inhabited area of players. What the game refers to as the Overlook.

A tourist spot in the Town of Beginnings, making up a portion of its south-side edge. An hour ago – Jesus, has it only been that long? – I'd have appreciated the view. It's quite literally the edge of the world. The only thing stopping anyone from casually walking over the edge was a short stone wall to block the accidental misstep over. But looking over it, there's wonder. An endless expanse of clouds, with birds and odd-winged monsters gliding or flying about. Some entering the level here, some moving upwards beyond the floor to upper levels. Pretty incredible, and that breeze is something to make it all seem so fantastic.

But now? There's a dread here that kills the mood.

"Gomen."

A player just bumped into me. A kid, younger than Ethan. Brown head of hair, short, maybe a late-middle or early high schooler. I have half an idea that whatever he just said was the English equivalent of 'sorry' but it came out quiet. Automatic, that's the word. Just a reflexive response to bumping into someone.

Kid didn't even look me in the face when he hit me. His eyes never left the ground.

I stepped out of his way and the boy went on. He shook a little, his face was pale and clearly uncomfortable with the situation, and his walk wasn't much more than a slow trot ahead. Nothing about him was lively or even aware that, still, he was alive and moving, which is more than some could say now.

Looking back to Ethan, I'd say my brother looked pretty darn good.

"Pleasant place you've brought us. Maybe we should check out a graveyard next. Probably has as much cheer as this spot."

He lacks all manner of guile, but a part of me did agree with him. "Why do you think they're gathering here?" I asked. For the first few minutes, a few dozen players were lying about from here to as far down the corner of the world as I could see. But now? I'd say a few hundred were camping out here. And more were coming – the shouting stopped in the courtyard some while ago when their efforts proved fruitless. Looking down just the street, I can see a few players are already scooting through to the Overlook.

"The sun, maybe?" Ethan guessed. I had to agree. Comfort, I guess, in the warmth of the light. Even as it set, some players moved and positioned themselves to best receive it. Aincrad wasn't feeling too warm right now as the day ended, and I imagine the cold wouldn't boost player morale in any way.

Could a player die from the cold? Digital frostbite? The Personal suggested there was a temperature setting, maybe we could get statuses with the cold? Death even?

I'll think on that later. "See anyone doing anything?"

"Well, those guys are crying. And those players are sitting _and_ crying. And those girls look like they're about to go to sleep. And those guys are moaning and crying and…"

Is it child abuse to swat him on the back of the head? "You know what I meant. Is there anything weir-"

There's a guy moving.

Why that stood out? He's walking normal. Straight and controlled, no slouch or lackluster attitude. Next to everyone else, he might as well been running.

He's moving to the wall of the Overlook. I move to him. "Ethan-"

"I see him." He's following beside. Glad to know it wasn't just me who thought the guy was weird.

It's probably nothing. Other players are already looking over the edge, and they aren't setting of my 'warning' sense. The guy's just probably anxious. Looks to be my age, shorter, narrower build but definitely with a few features that say 'I've got age.' It's probably nothing. Just wanted to look over with the others, clear his head. Got nothing else to do, and no one seems overly eager to run anywhere with monsters. Binge eating is an option, but I'm not an advocate of it and this is probably nothing. Just a player who's just trying-

The man's leg reaches up onto the wall.

"Oh, you gotta be-!" Kudos to my brother. I think he got the gist of what we're doing here.

He sprints ahead of me. I have to push someone out of my way.

The guy's already on top of the wall. Looking down. Hard look to him.

He leans forward.

I'm too far. Ethan's right there.

The guy's falling. My brother jumps out for him.

Over the wall.

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 **Numbers of players remaining in Sword Art Online:**

 **9,787**

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 **Next Update : 8/6/2017**


	13. The First Day XIII

Title: Two Brothers

Summary: We don't speak the language. We can't read the words. The menu is a troll. Half the time something wants to kill us and the other half is us trying to kill it. In short: Sword Art Online is the worst thing ever. OC Duo First-Person Narrative

 **Author's note: Okay, so I pretty much already figured out that writing this chapter was going to be a pain in the rear-end before I typed the first word.**

 **Because I've essentially written myself into a position where I either let this guy live or die. And either choice comes with consequences to how the story might feel to some. At least, for a while.**

 **I just want to ask that, no matter what happens next, know that I do not make the decision that comes with this chapter lightly.**

/

 **TB – E**

/

"FUCKING FUCK FUCK FUCK!"

This was stupid this was stupid this was stupid this was stupid this was stupid-

"Pull ME UP!"

He's a heavy asshole. And he won't stop moving. Or screaming!

"FUCKING HELP!"

Understand me, Japanese people – UNDERSTAND ME! Get off your butts and-!

"Ethan!" A pair of arms wrap around my waist, pulling me back.

This hurts so bad.

Confirmation: you can't pull muscles or joints in-game. But it still hurts like hell to hold something way outside your weight range.

"JOOOONNN!"

"I got you! I got you!" Good, now get me out! This guy won't stop wiggling!

I can feel a few more hands on me. Grabbing the side of my shirt, my leg, more people are helping. Other players. Japanese, probably. God bless them, for how much worth that has from a guy like me. Meh, screw it, I'm allowed to go religious when I'm dangling literally over the abyss over a horizon of clouds that look to be almost constructed to look like they're a part of heaven themselves. Beautiful and, right now, ominous.

Takes a second. It's hard to pull me up on account that I am still carrying someone, but beggars can't be choosers. I wait. Not patiently, but I don't have much choice in that matter, either.

Oh, and if I haven't been clear on this already: I caught the SOB in the air.

Middle. Of. The air.

By his ankle. Both hands, over the wall. My face hit the other side of that wall, I can prove it! Can I brake my nose in here? Don't know. Still feels like it's broke. Point is, by sheer awesomeness that I have just achieved, I have saved this wiggling, screaming waste of life by sheer miracle alone. I am never trying that again, so just try it! Jump! I'll let anyone else fall!

Kayaba owes me for this. Three level ups and a new Skill, please! I earned them!

Daring-leap-of-catch makes the heart beat like crazy. My breathing isn't coming too easily either. I need breath. Lots and lots of breath. Is this how asthma feels? Virtual avatar asthma? Is that a thing?

Focus, me. I can see the other players now – Jon's not letting go of me for a second – moving to the single leg I have. Some reach over and grab the player's body, some take to the leg, and slowly the guy is being pulled up. I don't let go quite just yet, mostly because if this asshole still fell after all of that I'd…probably feel bad, if I'm perfectly honest. But once the torso was over, I let my fingers slip. And man, did they sting. Tightest hold I could give. I'd have virtually sore fingers for a week.

Oh, now Jon's holding me.

"God, Ethan!" Oh, screaming in my ear. And a hug. Mixed with some shaking. That's not helping the virtual asthma. "You promised you wouldn't be stupid!" When did I-oh. Right. After the eggs. I did promise that, huh. "Wha, what do you call that?!"

"Uh, awesome saving?" Oh, my virtual spine is getting virtual breakage. Bring on the virtual paralysis. "Jon, dude, people are staring. You're killing me here." It might just be the adrenaline still, but I think I'm missing on why Jon's acting like I – oh, wait…could I have died if I went over the side?

Oh shit, I could have. That idiot could have taken me with him!

Fuck this guy! I should have let him fall!

Oh, Jon's not holding me anymore. But he's pointing at me. And that's an angry Jon' face. "Don't. Do that. _Again_."

"Don't have to tell me twice." Seriously, everyone else comes second. My life first.

I look to the almost-suicided guy. Crying, shaking, crawled into a small ball on the ground. Someone's talking to him, some girl, and I guess she's trying to…comfort him? Maybe? I speaka no Japan-lingo.

I look around, noticing only now that we've garnered ourselves quite the crowd. People watching us, seeing my dashing and awesome save. Jon looking like he wants to smack my shit, but I can't say how that's being interpreted by the masses. All I know it that I'm alive, Jon's alive, the dude's alive, everyone's alive. Can we please keep it that way?

A girl screams.

It's down from us. The crowd shifts, turning towards the noise.

I can see it. Another guy, another someone moving up the wall. A couple players reach out to him, more effort than the guys and girls gave this guy, but the new player decides to jump forward. Decides to put more distance between himself and any grabby hands. No lucky saves for him. I can't even make out his face before he disappears past the wall and out of my view.

I'm on the ground. Sitting. I don't feel like being up just yet. I let the other players rush to the wall, looking over, watching.

It goes silent for a second. No one speaks, no one gasps or shouts. Dozens looking over the edge, silent as possible. Even the breeze and wind looked to have taken a moment to be quiet to the world.

And I hear it. The sound of shattering glass.

I don't even need to listen to the screams, shouts, gasps and Japanese words. Neither does Jon, from the looks of it. We got the gist.

/

 **TB – E**

/

My hunger levels aren't low. I ate three black breads earlier – _yum_ – so I'm still good on hunger.

Doesn't matter though. I'm binging.

Purple apple – 19 Cor. Apple juice – 39 Cor.

Found a nice box to sit on. Rough, hard, stable, it worked.

Jon's with me. Won't leave my side. Decided to take a break from his makeshift policing/lifesaving officer duties.

What's there to say? We lost a guy. I don't really feel all bad about it. Not like it was me or Jon who did the jumping. The guy knew what he was doing and that was that. One life lost because they thought this was all just a big, bad joke. That something like a video game couldn't really hold anyone's life in the palm of itself, no matter how sophisticated or intense it was.

He was probably wrong.

I've said it before: I can't confirm if someone is actually dead by way of this game. I just know I'm not willing to challenge Kayaba on if he managed to make this all possible or not. And, as far as I can tell in the last few hours, he hasn't been proven wrong.

We're still in the game. I'd call that strong evidence in his favor.

Now, about the jumper. One guy dying? Bad. Not earthshattering. Not heartbreaking. Unfortunate, at best, but maybe that's just me.

Problem was, after the 'Exciting Rescue of Wick and Miller,' and getting a sense of the worst vertigo of my life, it seemed the first suicide wouldn't be the last. Five minutes after the first, more screaming came from the left. More shifting players falling to the side of the wall, looking out. Fifteen minutes after that, someone else decided to have a go at it far down the right. A fourth bit happened when Jon suggested we leave all that behind and find somewhere else to wait.

I just tried to ignore it, like him. It wasn't a pleasant sound.

Jon wasn't taking it as well as me. Moral compasses are a bitch for people like him. It's so easy to blame yourself when the straight-and-narrow tells him he could have done better. That he could have saved everyone if he was faster, stopped worrying about me, moved around a bit more and kept an eye out for anything and everyone strange. It'll grind his gears for the next few days, at least.

The good news out of it all? Our guy didn't try to go skydiving without a parachute again.

The guy went to one of the buildings, slumped beside it, and stayed there for as long as we stayed around. Some of the people who helped us pick him up even stayed with him. Even after we started to move out, he was still there and his makeshift group of helpers. I think I might have even saw a smile out of them. Not sure about, but when everyone else looks like Christmas was cancelled forever, it's gotta a positivity that's difficult to ignore.

I'll admit it, if feels kinda good. Knowing he's alive because of me and Jon. It's definitely the one highlight with the Overlook.

But now? Now it's just quiet. We're north of the town. Made way straight through the Courtyard. People were lying about there, too. Just as noiseless and broken as the rest. Maybe some didn't even move after first being told essentially that they were prisoners in a violent video game. Moving through them wasn't an issue though. Most barely gave more than a passing glance. I wonder if we look odd to them; Americans in a Japanese game. I can honestly say I've never seen so many Asians in one place, not that I had a problem with that.

Japanese girls. What's not to like?

Anyway, the market area was a bit livelier. There was actually a group or two that actually looked none too badly. Serious, but not moping like life just gave them the red card. Which, I mean, yeah. It kinda is. But…okay, point being, we're not the only guys (or girl, I see one) moving around. Which does wonders to feeling like this place hasn't hit the lowest of the low yet.

And now? Fruit. Juice. A minute to myself.

The sun's passing through the clouds. It's starting to get a little chilly. And I'm basically wearing rags – don't know for certain, but my guess is that they offer minimal cold resistance.

I wonder if Jon's doing any better. Since the edge of the world, he hasn't said much. The whole walk over, he's kept his head down, occasionally giving the area a onceover, thinking whatever it is my brother has going through his head. I don't usually bother him when he's like this. Doubly so when, yeah, he's thinking on everything related to this craziness. Survival for both of us. It's kind of an essential train of thought for me and he's probably better suited for it.

Did the police academy offer survival training classes?

Well, still, it's probably best Jon think about what to do next. And hopefully we'd have a solution soon, 'cause I'm almost down to the seeds of the apple.

"You cold?"

Jon's talking. "Yep." I answer.

Jon's got his eyes on me. I wonder if he's in the same boat as me; no cold resistant clothes. "Know what we can do to get warm?"

Warm? Actually, I did.

/

 **TB – E**

/

There are plenty of ways to get warm in SAO. First and foremost, there are the inns.

Originally, they were areas in town that made for makeshift 'save spots.' You'd fall asleep in them, safe from any transgressors who might have tried to stop you from making the logout function without being messed with in-between leaving and entering the game. Aside from them being warm, comfortable areas to rest in, the beds offer some bonuses.

In other RPGs, having a character sleep in a bed for a certain amount of time will provide that character with particular buffs. Experience gains, stat boosts, the general stuff. SAO was even more particular in that setup; the higher the quality of inn or bed, the better the benefits. And since buffs are kind of a rarity, at least in the Beta testing version of SAO, it isn't difficult to see the perks or why their in high demand .

But I don't know where the inns are.

I mean, we could go looking. There are enough places for a definite number of players to use, but I haven't seen any sign or building yet that gives off the 'you can sleep here' notion. And this town isn't exactly a small place. And I am getting tired and colder by the minute – _please_ let this just be a game mechanic and not a sign my real body is dying.

Alright, so, second option I know of for getting warm: bonfire.

There isn't a skill around fire making or woodcutting. Actually, comparatively to the large realism of the game, getting wood for fires is pretty easy.

Step one: slash tree with weapon. A limited number of twigs and blocks of wood will spawn off as we hit it, which we can use and put into the item section.

Step two: put the wood together in a pile. At least five logs for the system to register the wood is being placed for the intention of a fire.

Step three: have two twigs, one over the other, and start rubbing them quickly over the top of fire. Might take a second, but a bar will appear over the twigs and, as you continue to rub the sticks, the bar will start to fill. If you stop, the bar will empty. Continue to rub twigs until bar is fully filled.

And then, fire.

It's that simple.

Finding trees wasn't hard. They're littered all over the place. We went about smacking at a pair for a minute or two until we gather a sufficient number of logs and twigs. I think this is the first time I actually felt the weight of my item storage filling up. The boars and wolves gave items, but nothing that made me feel anything more than if I threw a few pennies or quarters in my pocket. But logs? It's like a backpack filled with weights was thrown on my shoulders. Not murderously hard, but I feel it. And looking at Jon, he's got the same feeling.

Makes me wonder if it's more mental or actual physical weight we're dealing with. Game generated weight, sure, but how does it work to make me think that I'm carrying something heavy or not? Does it take into account individual build and adjust, or is it mental? Is there a limit to what I can carry before I can't move at all? What happens then? Would I collapse? Like high gravity or-

Whoops. Inner gamer curiosity took over. My bad.

Anyway, getting the wood is easy. Now, we needed a spot to set it all up. Preferably one with space and not much of a breeze. I wanted an alley or maybe even a park space. But Jon took over and led us back to the center, to the Courtyard. It's spacey and doesn't have much a breeze, but kind of a downer with all the hopeless players lying about. Some look like they're feeling the cold, rubbing and rolling closer into themselves for warmth. No question about it: this is a miserable bunch.

Why did Jon bring us here? No clue.

Jon's my brother, but it's not like we share a brain. And he likes surprises – took me all the way to Japan for a video game. Can't imagine how anyone could top that.

Back to the virtual reality; Jon dumped his inventory worth of wood down. It clattered, echoing through the place, getting us some attention. Then he pointed to me. "Drop your load here."

The teenager in me wants to laugh at the choice words, but I'm getting too cold to argue. Did I mention I'm not wearing any boots like other players? A Wick-avatar personal choice to make him look scarier. Ergo, this stone floor is cold as hell!

Quick menu peruse. Select item. Several logs, all on the floor.

Depending on the number of incendiary items involved, the fire can last anywhere to a couple of hours to a full day. Best guess is these logs would last us the night, at least. We didn't halfass picking our trees dry of droppables.

"Care to do the honors?" Jon hands me a pair of his twigs.

I take them, but I can feel the eyes on me. About a half-courtyard full of them.

Have I ever mentioned I hate the limelight?

Screw it. I kneel down, get the sticks together, and start to rub them. Fast, rubbing, I can feel the tension of the sticks moving together.

A popup appears.

A bar next to the firewood. Right on schedule. It slowly fills.

I pick up the pace. The bar fills a bit quicker. Already 60% there.

Another ten seconds. Still rubbing. Still friction. The last few points of the bar fight me at the end, but then it stays fully lit and filled.

I keep rubbing until the bar disappears.

Cue fire.

The logs lit up like I poured some kerosene on and lit a match. I actually had to jump back, the heat of it rolling over me so suddenly I panicked. Can I get burnt in the safe zone? Or catch fire? Not gonna try it. If a suicide by leap of faith over the edge of the world is possible, I won't put it past Kayaba that death by accident bonfire-making is a legitimate way to wane the player population.

Still, those are some nice fire effects.

And the way it lit up the area, if anyone decided they weren't going to watch us before, they were now. The cold, the tired, the upset – this fire caught the eyes of everyone.

I barely noticed them, though. Because this fire is wonderful.

"Oh, sweet, sweet warm." I point my feet and hands out to the fire. This is a nice feeling. The fire has to be as tall as I am and going strong. Cinder rise up and over everyone. Its glow is brilliant.

Jon moves beside me, enjoying the heat. "Good work." He says.

Praise. It's stupid, but add it with the fire and, yeah, I'm definitely feeling the warm.

Sweet, sweet warm.

For a couple minutes, I just let my joints and toes enjoy the heat. It feels like it's practically hugging me. And with the rags, I probably look like a homeless kid who just got himself a daily piece of warmth. Did I care? Not even a little. We're all stuck in this craziness. Wearing a scruffy piece of starter clothes isn't going to ruin me.

And apparently, others didn't mind either. My bonfire has company.

To the left, an older man steps up to the fire. Can't say the age, but he's older than my brother, has a few wrinkles, couple gray hairs and a full beard. He stared to us, nodding, and passing a few words I couldn't make heads or tails on if they were for greeting or asking if he could join us. I let Jon take over the conversation, who gave the newcomer a nod of his own before gesturing down to the fire. I guess that was all it took; the man took a seat, lifted his arms to the fire and enjoyed the warmth in silence.

I looked up to Jon, who sent me a quick wink before going back to the fire.

He's got a look to himself. He's thinking something.

Hmm…

I didn't have much time to wonder on what my brother's train of thought. A pair, boy and girl, came from our right. Maybe a little older than me, they knelt by the fire after a quick acknowledgment our way. Didn't seem like they knew each other; just had the same idea at the same time. Get warm.

Another guy from across the other side of the fire. Four, then, from our right. Then more from everywhere.

Moths to a flame. More started to gather by the bonfire.

Now I had people sitting next to me. Close together, feeling for the fire. I feel pancaked between them, but not in a bad way. Turns out, keeping close together works just like in the real world: shared warmth. I'm not even gonna argue that two guys are pressing up against me, I'll just enjoy the heat for now.

We got maybe fifty people by the fire. And more are trying to get to it.

I feel a hand at my shoulder. "Stay here." Jon whispers to me. Aside from small, stilted conversation and crackling of the wood to the fire, there isn't much noise around. Not enough for me to miss it. But I guess even the small talk is a measured improvement over the graveyard this place was…five minutes ago? Ten minutes? A short while ago. Who knew fire had such power?

"Okay." I reply back, and Jon's gone.

Didn't see him again for a good while. The fire doesn't even die out a little in front of us. Benefit of game mechanics, the fire won't even look to be dying out until the very end. We'll have this bonfire for a good, long while.

Conversations are starting to pick up. Even see a few smiles. A guy laughs a little to the side. A rambunctious bit of conversation from the still steadily growing populous of those vying for the warmth of my bonfire. Hell, some even try to talk to me, to which my only reply is to stare back at them. Still can't understand a word yet from anyone, but some don't seem to mind much. They still try, even if my solo-lingual-ness makes for bad back-and-forth conversation.

I think a fourteen-year-old was trying to tell me a joke when I caught sight of Jon on the edge of the group.

Not hard to make him out. Jon's big; definitely bigger than anyone else here. But he's lumbering past us. Slow and efforted. Hurt, maybe? I just watch him, following his whole 'stay here' but now I'm curious on why he's looking like he got nailed in the balls.

I watch him struggle with the menu. Takes him about five tries to get it up – an improvement, really – then search through it. Takes a couple of taps, but then it all makes sense.

Logs. Wood. Twigs.

Can't hear the sound of it all being discarded from his menu. It's not as loud as the bonfire conversations. But some people see the move and watch my brother work.

Then the crowd shifts. I lose sight of Jon.

A minute later – _VROOM!_ – a new fire rises over behind the crowd. Larger than this one, almost twice so.

The crowd gets caught in the sudden rise of light and heat. It stalls the surrounding conversation for a second, but it quickly rises again. More cheerful. More excited. 'The more fire, the merrier,' I guess. Definitely put a few of the quieter players into a better mood.

Some of the ones at the back of my bonfire move over to the new one. Rushing over, actually. Running to get the best spots.

I can see it better now. Even the players who kept to the sides of the Courtyard seemed willing to move up now that there was more heat to go around and room to sit down. To try, even only a little, to get out of the funk of this place for the sake of warming up their virtual bodies.

I get it though. This won't solve anything. Not really. Post-bonfire, if the people outside haven't managed to pull us out of the game by morning, we'll still need to figure something out.

But till then, ignorance is bliss. And the first night will probably be the hardest.

Jon probably knows this. We're not psychoanalysts, but I doubt a little fire and kumbaya is going to fix being put into a-where did he go?

My brother. He's gone. Again.

Time flies. It's late now. No more sun. Getting a bit bored after being sufficiently filled and warm off the bonfire, so I tried to make out some of the conversation between others. And by George, I got nothing. The words were too fast, the patterns seemed inconsistent, and jumping back and forth between everyone didn't make the learning-by-watching curve any easier.

I wonder if this is how newborns feel with words.

But Jon's back. Left of me, past the outer layer of players. I'm not the only one who sees him, and some begin to watch him. Just a couple others, but I see them. They seemed interested in him. He looks tired, again, and heavy. As if every step was strained and pulled down to the ground with extra effort. I wonder, if I got closer, would his steps be loud and crushing?

Lost sight of him again. One minute later, no surprise, more fire.

This time, when the flames rose, players turned to stare and follow the new rising glow. They started to clap and cheer Jon's way. Nothing roaring or crazed. Polite and maybe a little excited. Appreciative and showing.

I start to get it then. Why my brother chose here. Why the fire, in front of everyone.

"Take this."

Speak of the devil, Jon snuck up on me. I turn my head, flinching back when a twig comes close to my head (can I poke my eye out here?).

The stick has something on the end. Meat. Pink and raw.

"Try and cook it," Jon whispers. Bit harder to hear him now. Conversation is rising. But I take the stick, looking it over. I tap the meat curiously, a menu popping up. Can't tell what the flavor text is saying – Japanese is quickly becoming the bane of my existence – but I recognize the symbol next to its name.

The bronze colored meat icon. From the Blue Boars. And Jon wants me to cook it.

Cooking. Hmm. I wonder what that's like in here.

The skill wasn't overly shown in either Beta tester footage or talks on forums. I mean, it's an RPG, but most of the game surrounds stuff like action and adventure. Interactive combat and realistic efforts. A real character experience unlike anything else before it.

Cooking is nice, it can restore health, fill the Hunger meter, and gives sensory tastes a whirl. But no buffs or improvements to character movesets. When I first heard of it, I categorized it under 'maybe' Skills to check out after I got bored with other abilities, but that was about it. It's not like I can cook in real life; why would I want to try it in-game?

Well, at least it's not 'Tailoring (knitting)' or 'Carpentry (house building).'

I lean over the pass the piece of meat close to the fire. I can feel people staring at me. Jon did this on purpose, I swear he did.

I wasn't even sure if you could cook things like this. I saw cooking with a stove, a grill, but a fire? Nope. No tutorial on that. Beta players only got a month to try this out and I definitely didn't hear or see any sign of fire making being used for anything more then, well, fire! If I'm holding this stick out and it doesn't do anything for five minutes, this is-

The meat turned black. I wasn't paying attention.

I think it started to change colors. Maybe a quiet shift? And, come to think of it, was that music playing? Like when I fought the boars and the wolves. Did cooking come with its own soundtrack in SAO?

I pulled the stick back. Burnt to crisp, inedible. Some players were staring at me, I could tell. I failed in front of them all.

Yep. I might kick Jon's ass for this. I hate the limelight.

Ignore it, Ethan, ignore it.

I pluck the meat off and give it a swing to the fire. The meat falls into it, stops, then shines brightly before turning into floating glass shards. Just like the dead boars. Just like the wolves. And, yeah, like the suicide-

Depressing.

Menu open. Take my mind off _that_.

Click on boar meat symbol. Select only one. A similar pink meat falls into my hand.

Pluck it back on stick, hold it over fire.

Ignore everyone. Ignore everyone. Ignore everyone. Ignore-

Goddamnit.

Menu. Item grab. One more meat. Stick it on stick. Hold it over fire.

I see it now. The shifts in color. The way the music moves with the cooking (I'll be darned, there's actually music playing while I cook). It's a minigame. Stop cooking when the music hits just right, and the food turns a nice, gold color.

Like…now.

I pull the stick back. The meat sizzles, steams a little but looks good otherwise. Didn't take long either. I'm not exactly hungry, but I imagine my virtual hips aren't going to grow from this very virtual slab of boar, so…

As expected of low class, level one monster drop food, it's nothing special. Meat, sure, and definitely has fat and filling to it. Maybe it's my non-existent Cooking Skill that makes it seem painfully average. Maybe it just needed some salt. Either way, few bites in, nothing bad, but nothing good either. So, I offer another sacrifice of boar meat to the Bonfire Gods. Long may they watch over me.

I try to find Jon after. Not sure what the cooking thing was about, but then I'm not trying to play detective to whatever Jon's planning with all this fire. For a second, I wonder if he went back for more wood. Get a real 'Fire in the Courtyard' feel going on. But I notice something odd happening around me.

Players are holding twigs.

Not just that, they've got food on them. Pointed into the fire.

Boar meat is the obvious majority. But there's a couple others kinds of food – even some fruit. The players, stern and focused, eyeing their pieces eagerly.

They're doing what I was doing.

Some pull back, disappointed and with burnt foodstuff. Others pull back, earning cheers from those around them. And already, it looks like others are trying to offer pointers to a few who don't look just yet ready to put their loot-food over a fire and get it burned.

Come to think of it, looking over some of the successful players, who eagerly bite into their successfully cooked stuff, I have to wonder it this is actually the first bit of food they've had in Aincrad. Obviously, we have the Hunger stat, and even virtual stomachs make it a point of saying 'give me food,' but was this some of the player's first interactions with eating? It sounds silly, but in most RPGs, hunger isn't a game mechanic. Even most survival games lack the stat.

Could it just have slipped their minds to eat?

And the scariest bit of all? I have a feeling I know where the sticks are coming from.

In fact, I can see Jon. Hands bundled around a few dozen skinny branches, handing them out over to players in the second bonfire. He'd point back to my fire, which made the players look our way, then they'd follow suit, grab whatever food they had, and start their own cooking. He's talking to them, but whether they understand him or not is another story. Maybe just the general motions are clue enough.

'Here's a stick, make food' doesn't seem hard to grasp.

Screw it, I'm done dicking around. It's warm with all the fires now, so the cold isn't a worry anymore.

Can't count how many people are sitting around, quiet or talking or enjoying or mellowing beside themselves, but there's definitely a lack of doom-and-gloom around us. And with the food going through – players sharing, passing around, and offering bits of their successfully cooked options – I'd almost say this was an early, Japanese Thanksgiving.

"Bro," I call out, seeing Jon pass out the last of his sticks to an excited pair. Who knew sticks could bring people smiles?

"Hey," he greets, smiling, "what's up?"

How could I put this delicately? "Did you… _plan_ all of this?" Smooth, Ethan. Real smooth.

Jon actually looked surprised. Like I was accusing him of wrongdoing. "Plan…what?"

Oh, for the love of- "This!" I gesture to everyone. I leave the meaning for him to figure out – please tell me I don't need to spell it out.

Credit to Jon, he figures it. "Not really," he says, though I don't know how much I believe of it, "I was just thinking how we could get warm. With all this stone around here, I thought this place wouldn't catch fire or anything." He scratched the back of his arm, stretching it out. "After the first guy sat with us, though…I might have gotten a few ideas swirling up in the old noggin'." He smiles to everyone. Amused. "I didn't think it would work out this well, though. That was a bit of a welcomed accident."

A bit of fire. Some warmth. Food. Good cheer over the negative.

This wasn't so bad. "Way to go, bro." I whisper it, but he hears me. Even my brother likes to be praised sometimes. "Got anything else planned?" Fireworks? Parade? World peace?

Jon looks at me, then turns to look over the Courtyard. Still a few stragglers about, but a couple are definitely eyeing the fires. And it's downright chilly here tonight.

He shrugs. "Maybe put up another fire. Hmm…one or two more, I think." Good guess. I think that would work. "Think you'd be willing to give me a hand?"

Two more wood trips? I'm tired. My feet are sore. I really just want to put this whole day behind and wake up in the real world tomorrow, God willing.

But, "I think I can help with that."

That earned some brotherly approval. Jon ruffles my head of virtual hair, which feels just like he would once upon a time before I decided near-egging houses sounded fun. Annoying as it is, as I tell him, I'll admit I smiled then.

We walk off from the groups. Looking back on them, as we moved away from the Courtyard and hopefully towards an area of trees, I have to say…that glow is pretty something.

Bit of hope in the dark town. Corny as it sounds…I don't feel too bad here.

Maybe we'd be alright.

/

 **Numbers of players remaining in Sword Art Online:**

 **9,748**

 **Major Changes in Jon's Character:**

 **Gained 'Extended Weight Limit' Skill!**

 **END 'THE FIRST DAY'**

/

 **Author's note: Alright, like I said, this chapter was a trickier one to write then usual.**

 **Mostly because I wasn't sure how to handle it, where to take it, and how it should end. Dialogue is a pain, making basic situations is a nightmare (making extreme moments is easy, making believable small ones is a troublesome task), and making sure the characters are entertaining but to a certain degree of believeability is ridiculously tricky.**

 **So, in the end, I just went with what felt right.**

 **Bit of a hopeful chapter, but I kinda like it that way. I can get more dramatic later. No betrayal, murdering, or general unpleasantness just yet. It's not even been a quarter of a day; who would fall that quickly into a desperate state of mind that they'd feel the need to murder or hurt others like that? Answer: no one believable. Rushing into dark themes would make for this story to be a very dull read.**

 **Oh, but Ethan raised a death flag at the end there. ' _Maybe we'd be alright.'_ As the cruel, capricious God that I am, I can assure you when I say that what I have planned is not pleasant...**

 **Next Chapter : 8/08/2017**


	14. The First Month I

Title: Two Brothers

Summary: We don't speak the language. We can't read the words. The menu is a troll. Half the time something wants to kill us and the other half is us trying to kill it. In short: Sword Art Online is the worst thing ever. OC Duo First-Person Narrative

 **Author's Note: I cannot express how many amazing reviews I got for my last chapter. I mean, seriously, you guys are the epitome of awesome. Awesometacular to the extreme.**

 **Love every single one of you and I hope I keep working to your expectations on good writing.**

\

 **START 'THE FIRST MONTH'**

 **November 7, 2022**

\

We're still in the game.

How did I figure that out? It was actually pretty easy. For starters, I don't remember a full, blue sky above me when I FullDived in the hotel. The stone floor, warm but hard, was definitely not the suite's very nice bed. No walls around me, plenty of open space, left and right, if I didn't account for my brother and a few hundred Japanese surrounding me that decided to form around my campfires and have themselves one of the weirdest sleepovers ever. First virtual sleepover, probably, and I partially organized it.

Can't say I feel too proud of that, actually. Remembering how I'm being held prisoner alongside my brother inside a virtual video game, with the prospect of death hanging over our heads occurring at every moment, does tend to put any personal kind of self-praise or happiness through a meat grinder.

Conclusion: it's been, looking at the clock in the middle of the Courtyard, almost fourteen hours since Kayaba basically tied a noose around our throats. Fourteen hours and I'm still in here. _Ethan_ is still in here.

I shouldn't be panicking.

This is advanced software and hardware. Who's to say how long it might take to safely find us an off switch. In the next five minutes, I might just feel myself being torn from this prison without warning or issue.

Just gotta stay positive. We'll be fine.

I almost want to let Ethan sleep in. Virtual sleep was…weird, actually, because of how normal it felt. When we put on the NerveGear and Dive into the game, we're essentially putting our bodies to sleep/into a coma for the duration of play. It's supposed to be harmless and safe.

However, that brings up sleeping in the game. How does that work? Does my body get tired? This digital, pixelated thing? I admit, I felt the need to sleep last night after all my work of pulling the fires and players together (that worked out way better than I thought it would), but I can't say whether it was more of a mental or physical exhaustion. Whether I imagined my body being tired because my head was, or because the game reacted to me being tired and then made sure my fake body responded appropriately.

Either way, it was different.

Back to subject. I nudged Ethan in the side. He's a sleeper, takes me a few times to pull him awake. His reaction, minus the language, was as I expected it would be.

"Ah, shit," he groaned, eyes roaming. "Still here…" I gave him a hand up to stand. He stretched, getting his fake body in order, then turned to look over the hundreds of sleeping players. "This is weird." Couldn't tell if he meant the surrounding area of players or that we got stuck into a game by a genius video game maker who decided to take up a hobby of playing God. Maybe both.

I don't even know how to comment on it all. "Hungry?" I ask instead. Breakfast never hurts, and if I could avoid any kind of conversation on what we should be doing next – until such a time where I can even figure out what the best next move to make is – then I would be very appreciative if God could do me a small favor and keep Ethan's questions to a minimum.

Ethan stared at me, needing a second to register just what I asked him in his still waking head, then brought up his menu. "According to," he yawned, "according to this, I'm good." He swiped to the side, his Personal and menu disappearing with the wave. He was quiet for a second, "I could go for a drink, though."

I can work with that. Don't know for certain, but I'm willing to bet the Thirst parameter falls faster than Hunger. "Let's go find us something, then."

\

 **TB – J**

\

Sometimes you need a kick-me-up in the morning.

Yes, I said kick. I don't drink it often, and I couldn't find it at the street vendors – found it actually in what I could only call a restaurant of sorts – but coffee does have its moments. Cream, sugar, pouring me a cup in an almost medieval building where the service provided plastic menus, modern lighting, and served everything from burgers to steak.

I found that a little funny.

Anyway, coffee. It tastes like coffee. Feels like coffee. Goes down like coffee. All for 104 Cor.

Expensive coffee.

Ethan's following me. Got himself a cup, 126 Cor. He wanted some milk added in, too. Seriously, when did he start drinking? "Things are happening," he whispers, bringing the cup to his lips. We're sitting out on some feudal awning, our behinds enjoying a pair of rough wood chairs. It overlooks the main road north, right into the thick of it all. A nice spot to watch the more active players waking up for the day. "Players are starting to head out."

Heading out. Onto the plains. "You think so?" I ask, but I already know the answer. I can see it, too. How some are holding their weapons out instead of sheathed. How that pair is stocking up on four health potions. How more often than not, a single boy or rare girl decides to throw caution into the wind and run their way out on the grass. I prayed for them. "Why do you think that is?" Small talk. Keep Ethan distracted. Don't think I don't know my own brother. I know, in the pit of my gut, what he'll want to do sooner than later. And, by the rules of this game, it's not like I could stop him if he tried to.

"Money," he answered honestly, lifting his coffee. "Money for food, drinks, other stuff. Comforts. It's expensive," it was, "and I don't know what will happen if those sections dip down to nothing." The Personal parameters. "People need to keep them up. To probably keep living. But to live, it's the same as anywhere. It has costs. Money. Cor. And the only way to get it is," he gestured down the road, "out there."

This wasn't exactly a second life sort of game. I doubted I could find a job here. The made-up characters at the stalls took up those positions. I could probably sell the stuff in my item section from the boars and the wolves from yesterday. Not sure how I do that, but I can't imagine it's rocket science. Might make some cash – Cor – off it.

But how long would that last us?

Few days? A week? We'd be out by then. Have to be. Every mind from here to Ohio would be all over our situation. Figuring out a loophole to disconnect us from this.

Akihiko Kayaba is just one guy. One mind with one twisted scheme. We got an entire world working on getting us out. No one can beat that kind of brain power, no one.

We'd be fine. Absolutely. We'd be just fine.

"We need to get you some clothes." I say, looking him over. It's my way of making small and being distracting, but there's truth in what I'm saying. Might just be my imagination, but those rags look even worst then yesterday. Durability down? "Wanna walk around. Find somewhere that might sell us some?" Which, come to think of it, I need a change myself. The shirt's fine and the pants are a little tight but don't do much to work against me. Underneath the pants, though…let's just say, I could use a replacement.

I make to stand, finishing the last of an admittedly okay cup of joe, but Ethan doesn't seem to notice. He's watching the players walking off. Down to the plains.

And shoot, if my eyes didn't wander with his.

"Okay," Ethan answers finally, still watching the road's occupants, "let's go."

\

 **TB – J**

\

Finding the right store was easier than I thought it would be. A small sign hanging over the street, with a needle and thread and a shirt symbol etched into it. Telling, but it also helped that the window showed some fine threads through it, definitely high-quality clothes. Bit too fancy for me, but there's a look to 'em.

Anyway, I'll skip the boring details and get to the moral of the trip.

Clothes are expensive. A pair of dark pants and a single, male piece of underwear (I made it a point of hiding them from Ethan) was all we could afford. As it turns out, clothes are a bit on the affluent side for the inworld experience.

Pants – 700 Cor.

Oh, we got Ethan a good pair. Comfortable, fit him nicely (though I expect he could have been two-hundred pounds heavier and they would have fit like a dream), a good pair. Had to pass over some of my own Cor to him, which took a while to figure out the controls for money transfer, but we got them.

Male underwear – 105 Cor.

And like that, I'm practically broke. But, I can breathe easier beneath the pants, so thank the Lord for that. Didn't realize how tightly knit I was until I made the exchange in my equipment slot.

Now, Ethan's got pants. Good looking ones, too. However, his shirt is still hanging by threads and he's barefoot.

Good shirt – 470 Cor. Boots – 180. Pair of socks – 40.

"We're homeless. I'm barefoot. Our breakfast was coffee. And now, we can't even afford to buy me some socks." Ethan laughed. It actually sounded like he found some humor in all of this. "Could we be more white trash?"

I tried to laugh with him. I did. Sad fact of the matter was that a lot of the humor is taken out when the basic idea of making money is essentially putting your life on the line for it.

Item selling might get him a shirt. I have a vague recollection that first level sellable items in games are usually worth next to nothing, but who knows. Still doesn't change the fact I haven't got the means of paying for anything beyond that. And, like Ethan, I really don't feel like testing any of these Personal stats on their potential lethality once they hit empty.

My hunger is fine, for now. Thirst is practically full. I imagine it won't be a problem till well after noon before I'd need to look at them again.

Now, what do we do next?

It's not even nine. An hour gone and all we had to show for it was coffee, pants and underwear. Barely any cash to our name and we still had basic necessities to worry about.

There's the obvious option. The one swimming over every head that holds a weapon in this game. But I gotta think of Ethan. One bad hit from anything out on the plains, over a cliff or just a nasty critical, and that's it. Done. Forgive me if I lost a bit of sleep last night with that thought rolling through me.

I could do this myself. Put Ethan somewhere, go out for a few hours, make some money and come back. Sounds good on paper, until you realize that you're telling a teenager to sit tight for some hours while you go into a video game world to cut down monsters and earn money, experience and the means to survive another day. No way my brother would go for that. Adrenaline junkie tendencies aside, the kid's likely to burn this town to the ground while I'm out harvesting Blue Boars. Maybe out of boredom or rebellion, take your pick. Plus, who's to say what's in this town that I'd rather not have my brother touching with a ten-foot pole.

Nah nah. There's no way I'm letting him out of my sight.

All thoughts lead back to the cold, hard fact. This is a tricky situation. One which, to this day, I can't say whether I took it as a positive or not when Ethan stepped towards the exit of the shop.

"Jon," he gets my attention, "we're going out. Come on."

"Where?" I ask. Or, I mean to. It came out more like a demand.

"Come on."

"Ethan. _Where_?" No answer. He's speed walking, I have to make up the distance. " _Ethan!_ "

"Come on!"

\

 **TB – J**

\

"Now, the benefit of a shield and spear is that it has length and defense. But there are very few Sword Skills to use and they're mostly stationary. Very tanky. It's a safe option for one, maybe two enemies' tops. Any more and you're screwed. Best guess, the spear-shield combo works better in groups. Focus the enemy on the shield, while others stab the unwary in the back. Working singular, like that guy, won't work."

"Makes sense."

"Those two, they're not bad. Not on strategy, but they're playing the pigs. See, got them to hurt the other. Playing conquistador. Seems getting the pigs to run into the other makes them stunned…enemies can hurt each other, that's good to know. Quick death for the two of them. That's actually pretty smart-oh, Dire Wolf. Now, the hammer and two-handed axes are slow. Low mobility. Defense-breakers. Speed is the disadvantage. Everything from moving to swinging is a trip."

"Need speed. Right. They should group up with the spear-guy."

"If he put away the shield…yeah, that could work. Spears have pinning effects. Smash some brains out when a monster can't move."

"That's gross."

"But pragmatic."

"Pragmatic? Look at you and your fancy words."

"Shut it. Check out her."

"What about her-oh, she's scared."

"Scared shitless. That's only one boar. She keeps ducking back. Probably doesn't even have a Sword Skill yet. Noob, complete noob."

"Why is she out there alone?"

"Who knows. She's pretty. She's scared. Alone. And she's staying that far away from even the closest other player. Either she's shy, terrified of others, or maybe even just doesn't trust anyone. She's not even defending herself right – run, you dumb girl!"

Her health just dipped into the yellow. Barely keeping her hands around her spear and the shield, the girl turned quickly south. The boar tried to keep pace, and was doing so fine, but we're not exactly far from the north gate. I kept my eye on her till she made it back to safety, screaming even when the boar gave up a good ways back. Might have been a funny sight from our spot on the hill looking over, if it weren't for the idea that this is all a game which can very well kill you now if you lose.

"Look," Ethan got my attention back, "more are going into the woods."

Ah, the woods. The dark, thick forest on the outskirts of the plains.

Four someones. Not together, not partied. Separated, two far right, one slightly to our left, and a last one I only just caught as he skirted by the trees. It was kid, actually, probably just about to enter his teens.

I wanted to run after him.

"That's thirteen."

"How lucky." Ethan's sarcasm follows up with a drink of what water remained from yesterday's black bread fun. "So that makes nine before. Seen any of them come out?"

"No, not yet," and I've been looking. Hoping, after the sixth.

"Yeah, that's what I thought." Another hard drink of water. He removed it from his lips, gave the sack a toss and watched as the thing broke up in the air into an all too familiar shatter of glass and light. With fitting sound effect, too. "People are going in. Not coming out. Going off the main roads. That's where the trouble is."

The six wolves came to mind. And that was just aways off. Either that was a serious unfortunate event or the difficulty really spikes off-road. Even this spot, a small walk from the road and garnering a lot of player attention, isn't even a hundred yards from the main paths. And the Blue Boars, with a couple Dire Wolves spotted here and there, just keep spawning.

"None of them can be higher than level two. Going in there alone, you might as well jump off the Overlook."

"Jesus, Ethan."

"What? It's true!" He shouts. "They're being stupid. It's not hard, it's basic. Level up, play it safe, go in groups, survive. This isn't," his hands go up to rub his eyes, groaning. "People are not invincible. They are going to die because of the stupidest of reasons because common sense has otherw – fuck it, I'm done."

Ethan stood up, pulled his knife out and ran down the hill.

…What?

"E-Ethan!"

See? See?! This is the kind of sh- _crap_ I did not want to happen! No fighting, no putting your hand into the bag full of snakes, keep it safe! Survive! Wasn't he just criticizing people for not following that?! Hypocritical teenager!

He was aiming for the spear-shield player. Three boars around him. Guy was stiff as a board trying to figure out which one would move first. Awkward positioning, he looked ready to flee back to the town at the clearest sign that one of them was going to move. His health was just over the threshold for green, nearing yellow.

That's when Ethan came in, rammed his dagger into the spot between one of the pig's shoulder and head. The throat was a thick thing and easily hit. I could see it even from here; the Blue Boar's health fell like a rock. Another critical, those knives are serious things. Didn't even require a Sword Skill for that to do the trick. The boar went pop before I even got beside him, and even still he was already going after the second.

He got their attention. The second one took a swing at him with its tusk. But those things are small, easily avoidable. Simple step back, Ethan's knife glowed green, and then a strong cut from the boar's shoulder to rear.

" _Weeigh!"_

It squealed, still living. Up until I came by and brought my sword down on its head.

To be honest, it was more like I beat the thing down then cut it, but the health still vanished the same. Another fantastic pop.

Then the final one.

The spear user, a man roughly my age, had his weapon jabbed into the back leg of his beast. It squealed, but could not move. Like a man thirsting for blood, Ethan went for the belly. Easy cut, twist the small thing, carve into it with vigor.

" _Wauoo…"_

And victory.

 **Result**

 **Exp – 79**

 **Cor – 97**

 **Items – 2**

Ah. The victory popup. With a little triumphant toon to go with it. I'd check the fine details later.

Right now? _What?!_

The spearman's breathing hard. Less tired and probably more around falling stress. He's still a little stiff but not looking ready to break for the gates anymore.

I guess, technically, that's thanks to Ethan. Not that it's gonna stop me from sending him my best 'I thought we agreed on not being stupid anymore' look, which he promptly ignored in favor of looking around to the surrounding players, fighting and attempting to best these low-level things.

Teenagers, I swear.

Instead, I go up to the spearman and hold out my hand.

"You alright?" I ask. Probably doesn't understand me, but the gesture of a handshake mixed in with a light nod isn't anything too complicated to get. Sheathing his spear, which apparently is a gesture of moving it to one's back and letting it float somehow behind the player and out of the way, the man gives me a good shake and a nod back. I'll take that as the positive. His health will need a bit of time to return fully, or some food would help, but he's in no immediate danger. Not unless Kayaba decided then to release a dragon or drop a meteor down on us in the next-

Quick look to the sky.

All clear.

I want to take a second to just breathe. Just…I got a speech going through me that I really need Ethan to hear. Because running off to stab pigs works well and fine when it works, and helping people is nothing wrong, making a little cash won't hurt when we need it, but I cannot stress the importance of sticking togeth-WHERE DID HE GO?

A player on the right. Alone. Fell to the ground, squirming. He lost his shield. Sword looked ready to go, too. Two Dire Wolves circling. All these players, so close together, fighting in pairs or singularly. No one even seems to notice him, even as I'm sure he's screaming the Japanese equivalency of 'help me.'

But there's Ethan. He noticed.

"God… _argh!_ "

Oh, I am going to give him… _earful! Such an earful!_ Words cannot express the level of earful I will rain down on him!

I bring the sword to my side, reared back. I can feel the pull on my skin. The power of the gesture. Only confirmed I'm not going crazy by the shimmer of my weapon beginning to glow as the system registers my wanting to perform a Skill. The game is practically pulling me to the wolf now.

But before I finish anything, I notice something on the side.

Spear-guy's following me. Weapon pointed forward, shouting for the world to hear. Moving to the wolf.

\

 **TB – J**

\

" _Waurgh…waur…wagh…"_

Pop.

 **Result**

 **Exp – 52 (EXP to nxt LVL: 63.1% - 63.6%)**

 **Cor – 77 (2182 - 2259)**

 **Items – 1**

Okay, fun fact: if I just leave the victory screen up for a second, the popup will update a few pieces of info for me. Money, level, it's nice to have some updated numbers on those fronts. Always going to Personal to check, especially with how the menu is an absolute bane of my virtual existence since my first five minutes here, would likely become a quick annoyance.

I can work with this. As I can work with a moment to breathe.

Because that. Was. _Fast._

Yes, fast. I can't think of another word to describe it. One second, I'm there. The next moment, over there. Slash, stab, head lobbing, repeat. Ethan has been busy dragging me around. Busy making himself acquainted with rolling around the grass and the dirt with the intention of seeing anything on four legs massacred with extreme, violent prejudice. Only consolation is that he mostly just stuck with the occasional player who he decided could use his version of a makeshift cavalry. Which…yeah, I guess we kinda were.

Spear-guy is still with us. Kept following beside me most of the way. Battle cries and screams – is there an ability for Warcry? Well, either way, it's effective in jazzing us up. Nothing more interesting to watch then a Japanese guy performing his Spartan routine and raining unmerciful death on all surrounding pigs and dogs.

After that, we shanghaied the kid with the sword and shield and kept him with Spear. And I do mean that a bit literally, since Ethan pulled him towards Spear, pointed between them, yelled 'stay' and went back to cutting up more pigs. And, as it turns out, having a pair of shields around is useful. Kid still looked stressed, but having an adult by him was helpful. At least he didn't look about ready to wet himself anymore.

Ethan took to calling him 'Twitchy' at one point, and since I did not otherwise know his name, I just stuck with the bequeathed title, too. He responded to it easy enough.

Then came a kid, probably in his later elementary school years, carrying a hammer as big as he was. He didn't say much and, if I'm honest, I didn't even notice he was in our group until one of the boars was literally crushed in front of me. Wasn't too comfortable with a child moseying around with us, but if there's any way to join a makeshift group of unknowns jumping back and forth between groups of monsters, then I'd say liquifying the insides of one of them is as good a way as any to earn some favor.

Ethan dubbed him 'Japanese Kid Thor.' Or simply 'Thor,' for short.

After that, I stopped keeping track. I think we're up to ten, fifteen people now. More players just sort of followed after seeing us running around. Must have looked mighty easy to kill things when five other swords, various sharp objects and a particularly aggressive hammer were helping to kill everything around.

It was our own little pig-slaying, dog-reaping, multi-regional party.

We've been doing this for the better part of an hour. We'd probably have been done in just five, ten minutes in the real world. Benefits of virtual bodies, I guess. So long as we had our health, we just kept moving. We might have even feigned an appearance of looking organized, if only by way of following Ethan wherever he started running off towards in that moment. Even I lost the will to complain with or talk to him after the fifth or sixth successful cut down. When it works, it works, and yelling at him about doing something right isn't exactly a conversation I could probably sell.

Oh, I'd have words on deciding to run into the fray, willy-nilly, without telling me first, but I'll save that conversation for later.

For now, we just got done picking through a group of seven pigs with minimal effort, the experience being spread out amongst the great number of us, before Ethan fell to the grass, breathing in great bits which I was all but too inclined for following along with.

And apparently, so did everyone else who decided to follow the crazy knife kid for the last while.

Right now, though, I think we're done. Or, at least, there are no more enemies to be found in this zone. We might've helped pick it dry, for a while. Not a Blue Boar or Dire Wolf to pop up out of anywhere, save maybe a couple around the forest's edge (which I have no intention of going towards). Not sure how other people appreciated us running around, killing anything they looked to be having trouble with, but if they were upset, they weren't bringing it up with us. Helps to have a dozen others standing beside you to ward off complaints.

We were just sitting here, middle of the battlefield, before Ethan spoke up.

"Okay," he breathed out, rising to stand, "I'm good. Let's go."

He waved to everyone looking his way and started off towards the gates.

Spear-guy, Twitchy, Thor and everyone else just watched him leave. As unceremonious as the group's makeup started, it ended just like that. Ethan came, Ethan went.

Then they turned to me. Waiting. Curious.

I don't have much in the way of leadership skills, or language abilities, to work through this. All I could do was wave to them and follow after my brother.

What else was there to do?

\

 **TB – J**

\

I guess that's how some games are. Meet new people, make small connections, then maybe never see them again. Can't even say I feel too bad about it all. All those guys, they're alive, got experience, plenty of cash to make it now. Might've even learned that the solo shtick is a one in a million chance of survival.

Still, even by the standards of my brother, that might have been a bit harsh to leave them like that.

"They'll be fine," Ethan waves me off, taking a bite of an orange apple. "We showed them how to play. I'd say I'm more than allowed to leave them high-and-dry without worrying about hurt feelings."

We were helping them? Was that what we were doing? "I feel like I should smack you for that," I admit, taking a drink of water. "Seriously, little warning next time you decide to run headlong at something which can kill you, okay? Nearly gave me a heart attack…"

I try to sound desperate, sarcastic, annoyed or even angry. But I never was much of an actor. Can't fake the fact that it all worked out surprisingly well and I've never been one to argue with something done right, if unorthodoxly.

Which stinks. This is a game that can kill you. I should be allowed to be angry.

But right now, all I can really think of is that my brother is probably right. That we probably helped those guys, even if he just did it because he was mad at their 'lack of skills' or trying to steal some kills to get money and exp. Might have even done it like he did to escape my growing ten-mile long list of rules behind how we would maybe, possibly, potentially start on our first, single boar post-imprisonment. Start it slow, just to dip our toes in the pool and test the temperatures before event thinking of anything else.

But Ethan? He dived headfirst into the shallow end. He just had to rebel against the authority beside him, the little turd.

"Yeah, sure. Swear I won't do it again," why do I doubt the truth of that? "But seriously, we got, what? Four grand? I think I'm allowed to be a little suicidal when it makes us serious bank." That's what I love about kids. Severe lack of guile. Talking about suicide like it's nothing.

"How about we just try to play it safe rather than 'make bank.'" Sounded stronger there. "Less sprinting the game and more marathon. Not…"

Oh. I just said marathon. That suggests a lengthy bit of time.

We'd be fine. Couple days, tops. We'd be out of here by then. And the money today could last us on food and whatnot. We didn't need to run out of the safe zone anymore.

"Let's check this place out," Ethan jumps me from my thoughts, turning suddenly to the right.

A shop. A large building with a stack of smoke coming out of its chimney. Its structure was made of stone and dark-colored wood, bit contrasting to the more light-colored places around it. And hanging over the street by the front door was a sign, engraved with an anvil and hammer.

A blacksmith (or is it black smithy?).

I'm not that shrewd with the way of gaming anymore, but I'd have to be two-kinds of stupid not to recognize that. And, yeah, okay, _maybe_ going into a shop filled with cool, sharp weapons in an almost too-realistic video game scenario is something I can chock off my bucket list now.

The first thing I notice was the smells. Metals, smoke, thick heat. Bit hard to breathe in, but I'd get used to it. Not like these are my real lungs I have to worry about, though my eyes did water a bit from the soot in the air.

The second was the walls. Weapons on top of weapons. Lined up, held tightly, prostrating to all customers. Some kept in glass cases or strapped to some pieces of armor. Oh, and the armor was nice. Full plated figurines. Some definitely a more European knightly look, while a couple other pieces were lighter looking but fierce still. A nice looking double-sided axe had my eye, a curved sword with polish and some engravings, even that spear looks troubling but very effective to have on.

We weren't alone here. Couple guys were messing with a shorter-looking sword on the side, giving it a few swipes. A popup, like the one I had whenever I picked up the waters yesterday, was next to the wielder. I'm guessing that means I can test the thing out before using it, which works just fine with me.

I could really go for something a bit more my size then the starter sword…

Third and last was the lady at the side. Sitting behind a counter, she smiled brightly to everyone, though I had a feeling she was also watching us. Don't figure we can steal in this game, but it might actually be possible. Guessing she's the store owner and doesn't want any of her merch 'misplaced.'

That's fine with me. I've got no intentions of stealing.

"Oh, _baby_." My eyes wander down to Ethan. "Bro, I think I might've just found something awesome."

He's excited. I look over his shoulder. "Ooh, nice."

Tucked into a glass case, locked by key, is a silvery-blue dagger, long and sharp and curved resting over red silk. Tiny little incisions and markings into the weapon's steel; not sure the purpose they served, but they were pretty. This think looked like it was made for ceremonial purposes, but I could tell it would work just as nicely on the plains.

"How much?"

Ethan taps his finger to the weapon case.

 **MIL'SARUNE +0**

 **Long Dagger / One Hand**

 **Range:** Short

 **Type:** Slash/Stab

 **Attack:** 130-140

 **Durability:** 230

 **Weight:** 15

 **Requires:** 17

 **Equip** +9

 **Agility** +14

 **Strength** +2

 **Hiding+ (Between 18:00 – 6:00)**

 **Made by Cisern**

 **54,000 Cor**

"Is any of that good?" I haven't even looked at my own weapon's stuff. For all I knew, that's an amazingly expensive piece of crap.

"It's named, so it's a rare weapon," my brother informed me. "SAO works only under two stat types, Strength and Agility, and each level a player gets allows for one of the stats to be upgraded by a single point. That right there, 'Requires,' means that, because this is a dagger and a speed weapon, it requires the user's Agility to be at least seventeen points before use. Otherwise, it'd just feel weird."

Not sure how it would 'feel weird' but I'm sure he doesn't know exactly what that means either. "How's it match up to your knife?" I'm almost tempted to measure it with my sword, but something tells me I'd be here for a while getting the menu up.

Ethan waves his open like it's second nature. "Um…Iron knife: 7-12 attack. Durability 30. Weight 5. Requires 'none.' No bonuses on anything." He waved the screen away. "This is better."

Yeah, it was. "And costs an arm and a leg." 54,000? We had four thousand, but we still needed money for food and I'd like to actually find someplace to sleep tonight that isn't cold stone-wait, I don't even need to be considering this. We don't need it.

Two days. Two days, tops, and we're out.

"From my experience, things that cost a lot in-game are worth it." I think that logic works for most things, real world or otherwise. "Let's see what else is here. Maybe something nice."

It's not a big shop so I let him go. Kinda curious what else is in here.

I mean, I wasn't planning to buy anything. I wouldn't need to. Two days, I'll say it as many times as I have to. We'd be out and back in Japan with time still for our vacation. This would all be a bad memory to have, if that.

We just needed to survive. Money for food, water, period. And maybe some comforts. That's all.

…But, what's the harm in a looking around? Just a little?

\

 **TB – J**

\

One of the cheaper mannequins of armor. Basic iron stuff. The torso was simple, leaving the arms open. The helmet was crude and didn't look like it had much in the way of comfort. But the mannequin's hands and feet? Those pieces came lined with fur. Soft, warm fur. And they breathed so nicely.

Pair of Iron Gauntlets – 570 Cor.

Pair of Iron Boots – 640 Cor.

The 'gauntlets' were more like gloves for the hands while the wrists and forearms were covered with some kind of knitted animal fleece. Wrapping around them was, as I believe they are called, 'vambraces' (don't quote me on that, I'm not armor-savvy). They were hard, tough and worn-looking things, but didn't offer any discomfort. I liked them, and the gloves did make griping the sword a little easier, though I will say the gruffer appearance of them was a bit distinct with my green shirt.

Anyway, the boots were easier. Dark leather padding with metal shin guards wrapped over. Nice, comfortable fur inside, too. Like throwing on slippers, with the added protection they could stop a knife if needed. Comfort and utility; best things in the world have those two qualities.

Now, half my Cor is gone. In two minutes.

I can't even say why I took them. Just…they're crude pieces of armor. Heavy armor, by the description, even if they weren't too weighty. Just felt like padded weight. Nothing aggravating about them.

Can't even say if Ethan's giving me a 'ha ha' or 'it's fine, I'm glad you like them' smile. When he's happy, he usually looks like he's laughing at you. I just can't win.

"I just got distracted," I defend. "I mean, I still have half my Cor, you know. Food, water, and we can afford a place to stay at now. Isn't that good?" My words fell on deaf ears. I think my brother thought he won some fake battle over my spending. He probably did.

"That's fine!" His tone suggested otherwise. "It's your money. And it's not like we're going to need more." Oh, that tone. "Like you said: food, water, we got money for it. It's not like we're going to be here long, right?"

His tone dipped there. Some of that enjoyment gone.

I put my hand to his shoulder. Dad used to do this all the time when I'd get upset. It's comforting, at least it was for me. "Hey, Ethan. I promise – me and you, you and me – we'll be out of here in no-"

"Shirt." He interrupted, moving away from me. "I can buy a shirt. And shoes. Socks, maybe. I miss socks, didn't even know I could. Seriously, stones and the cold are murderous. God bless the guy who made socks."

He starts moving down the roads. Not sure yet if this is even in the right direction to the clothes shop, but that doesn't stop him from making his way forward.

I follow behind. Maybe he just needed some space.

One grey shirt, a pair of black boots, and some brown socks later, and Ethan actually doesn't look so homeless anymore. "Okay, clothes? Clothes are awesome. Clothes are now on my top ten awesome things ever made." Can't tell if he's just putting on a show for my benefit, but I can't imagine not-wearing rags will be too irritating for him either.

"Glad you like 'em." I comment for the sake of commentary. "Alright, so, lunch. What were you thinking? Fruit, vegetables, meat?" Was there any place to get some seasoning? Maybe cook the quickly growing number of boar's meat we had on hand with some flavor? Or maybe a rentable kitchen – is that a thing?

"I was thinking of going back to the fields," Ethan says with about as much nonchalance as a teenager walking into a pool full of sharks might have. "I kinda need some money and I'm almost ready to level up." He was? I thought we were close to the same experience. And money, for that matter.

Speaking of. "How much money do you have?" I almost comment on just wanting to take a break. I can feel it now; the emptiness in the pit of my gut. But the money thing came first. "How much were those clothes?"

"Not much," he says, "but this little guy was a bit more expensive." Ethan reaches over to his side, handing falling over the handle of his knife and pulli-that's not his knife. "Steel Dagger. 1040 Cor. Basically a higher grade, level one player weapon." He gave it a few swings. "No requirements, better damage, bit heavier, but I kinda like it that way."

Steel Dagger. Well, the color is duller than the iron, but the shape of it definitely illustrates a sharper, more lethal tool than the starting one he had. The handle is smoother, less rough leather. Some insignia to make it seem somewhat articulate, worthy of its price. A smaller cross guard, but it's not exactly like a knife is going to be used for much defense. Ethan told me himself; dagger defense is crap. DPS all the way.

Still, 1040? With clothes? "How much-?"

"I can't afford socks."

"Are you kidding me?" A thousand Cor? Between us? We'd barely last the day.

"Nope. So, I need money. And how do I get money?" He waved his knife in the direction of the plains. "Take a guess." He turned to start walking.

But I wasn't having it.

I reached out and took his arm. "Jesus, Ethan, just _stop._ " He listens. Doesn't even struggle with me. I have his attention, "Don't you get it? I don't want you going out there."

"That's not really an option." I let go of his arm. He wasn't running. "I mean, we could sell our stuff, but low-grade loot isn't gonna bring much to the table."

"Doesn't matter. Sell it. Get some food, water, let's find someplace to relax. We don't need to run out there anymore."

"Uh, yeah, we probably do." He points to me. "I thought you got that. Dude, you bought _armor_. And I don't think it was to set a fashion statement."

I am hating this really comfortable armor more by the minute. "I was," I have no idea what I was thinking, "doesn't matter. Look, stay away from the monsters, alright? We don't need them. A week. A week, and we're done. We'll be out of here, okay? So just, just _stop_ running off." I'm getting worked up over this. My mind goes back to the plain from this morning, with all the boars. A twist of my memory, and one of the boars Ethan skewered now got lucky and drove it's tusk into his stomach. Twist, critical, and his health goes from green, to yellow, to red, to nothing.

Shattering glass.

I'll admit it, the image shook me a little.

Ethan noticed. How could he not? He puts the dagger away and I think I got to him then. He lifts his head up, looking to the sky-ceiling, takes a deep, long breath then looks back at me.

He doesn't say much for a second. Just stares. Pursing his lips and looking tired. I imagine I probably look the same.

"Dude, I'm gonna ask you something," he walks up to me, slowly, putting his hands on my shoulder. Didn't need to, I was already focused on him, but it's definitely a gesture which says 'I have something to say.' "And I want you to be honest with me." I'm always honest with him…or, at least, ninety-percent of the time. I nod, regardless. "How often am _I_ the voice of reason?"

"Less often then I wish you were." The answer came naturally. Ninety-five percent of the time, I'm the parent. I'm the one who has to make the right choice instead of the fun choice. Not always an easy thing to do with a very vocal teen, but I get that it has to be done.

Ethan seemed to agree. "Exactly. So, when I tell you that you're in denial, that you're looking like you're going to go into a full panic at anything that even looks funny, or how maybe you're taking this whole 'protective guardian-brother' thing a bit too far for even the remotest bit of comfort? Then take my advice."

He grips my shoulders a little harder.

"Relax. I have no intention of dying here.

"I get it. Really, I do. It's not that hard to get, actually. This. This whole, stupid place is basically a terrible, horrible thing painted in a real nice color. Seriously, I _get_ that anything can kill me here. At maybe any second. For all I know, the floor will glitch and I'll fall down to my death. Hell, we saved someone from screwing the big one just yesterday, only for someone else to go for it anyway. That was beyond shitty. _Completely_ shitty. Fuck, _all of this_ is complete and utter _shit!"_

He takes a second before stepping back. Any good, active cheer of jumping back on the plains is good as gone. Now, he actually looks how I feel.

"I am trying not to freak every second we're in here. I'm trying not to think on anything and everything that can happen in a game – bugs, glitches, errors, a screwed-up bit of code that erases my lungs, whatever. Half the reason I'm still going is because I just love the idea of shoving this knife so far up Kayaba's asshole that I could tickle his brain with it." He tapped his dagger pointedly. "But most of all, I don't want to think about just sitting around if this whole 'stuck here till you beat the game' thing is legit and we're fucked. Yeah, sure, _maybe_ someone will get us out of here, heck, in the next _five seconds_. I'd love that! But I am _not_ going to sit around waiting. I'll fucking lose it."

He took his hands to his hair and started to pace. Might just be how I'm feeling, but I swear he's shaking. He turned and went over to one of the benches lining the street, sitting down and keeping his head low.

"You don't have a clue, man. Even staying right here, knowing I could be doing something right now, is driving me nuts. The only reason I'm not out there, trying to solo this all to win by tomorrow, is because you're with me. Because I know you'd fucking follow me into whatever hell I'd choose to go full-assault on. And I'm the only one who's allowed to be stupid here. And don't get me wrong, I'm glad you're stopping my nuzlocke-suicide run of this. But…I can't just stay here, Jon. I, I just, I won't." He was quiet for a moment, rubbing his eyes. "I'm sorry, man. Really, I am. But I can't stay here. I need you to have a little faith in me. Believe me that I won't just go and die out there. To have a little faith that I will try to make it out of this and I will be going out there…and I, I need you to be okay with that…"

\

 **TB – J**

\

What else was there to say after that?

What could I say after something like that?

Obviously, it's the easiest thing to say 'tough luck, my rules' but I don't think that's going to even remotely work in this sort of place. Ethan would just run. I'd never find him in all of this. And besides, I'm just not that kind of adult to do something like that to him, either.

Because I get it. He laid it out for me. I can respect that.

I didn't even see how this was getting to him. He's a teenager, shouldn't be surprising. Expression is usually quiet and controlled, not as blunt as what he just spewed at me. Because that was definitely a spew.

I know he wants to go out there. It's obvious. I know he's going to go, with or without my blessing. He's going to get into fights, stab things in the throats, try to fight his way out of here one minute at a time, and he'd do it alone if he had to. I had no doubts of that. He's stubborn that way, and a bit hypocritical. He knows he'll die if he goes alone, but he'll do it if there doesn't look to be another choice.

Yeah. Maybe in five minutes, bam. We'll be done.

Or maybe it'll be tomorrow. Or the day after that. Or maybe in a month. Or two. Or maybe even in a year.

Maybe not even then.

Ethan knows it. I…I know it, even if I hate to admit it. Kayaba's a genius. Stone-cold brilliant. He made everything from video games to satellites. That takes skill, talent and ingenuity.

My brother believes he could keep us in here. Tied to a little bomb on our heads in the real world.

He believed we were stuck here. Wholly, truly believed it.

And maybe…maybe I'd need to believe it a little, too.

We'd need money to survive. We'd need it for food. For water. Basic necessities. But to make money, you need to fight. Like any other action game. And this is a game, as terrible as it is now. And to make money, we might need to fight monsters. And eventually, when we got to higher levels, Ethan will want to go further from town. Further into Aincrad. Maybe even into the woods. He'll want to move and progress because that's how I was once. I had the drive, once. To beat a game. To throw myself at the challenge, whatever it was. I knew that, vague as the memory might be.

I knew. He's just like me.

I sit down at his side. I don't have the words yet, I'm thinking on how I should say this straight. Ethan keeps his head down, breathing deeply. Calming himself down. Maybe even waiting for my big 'no, you won't do anything and that's final' speech.

Dad would have given him one. I know he would. And as much as I might try, I know in the end-

I'm not Dad.

"If we go out there…" Ethan turns his head a little. " _If_ we go back out there…I'm not saying we have to be the heroes here. We don't even have to save anyone. We don't have to do all the floors, we can leave that to someone else, if we want." This is surprisingly hard. "But if we _do_ go out there…there's gotta be rules. No more running like before. You stick close to me. We stay together. And more importantly, we _work_ together. Making it out alive is what's important here. Not being the best. Not beating everything that comes our way. We _win_ by _surviving_."

I don't know how much he agrees with me. He probably wants to beat the game. Like most people probably running out into the fields. But I won't call him on it, I'll just offer him the option. It's his choice. I'm following his lead.

"You were right, though. You fight a monster, you'll have me right beside. Need me to bail you out of something bad, you won't even need to ask. You jump off a cliff, I'll jump with you. What I'm saying is, I will follow you wherever. Which means you've got to be smart for both of us. We go out there to make it out of here. Together." I reach out, putting my hand to his shoulder. He doesn't flinch from it. "Can you do this for me?"

"Yeah," he didn't even hesitate. I didn't expect him to. "I mean, yeah. Yes. Definitely." He nods. "I've got your back."

And I've got yours.

After that, we're quiet for a bit. Just taking in everything. The players passing by us, the cool winds coming through, just the relaxing place that was the Town of Beginnings. And, for at least a few minutes, this place didn't feel so…entrapping. A definite weight is off this place that was hanging over it since last night. Or, maybe it was just hanging over me, and I refused to acknowledge it till now.

Either way, Ethan's not breathing so hard or looking ready to roll himself up into a ball. A definite improvement.

I looked to a nearby clock on the wall, judging the time. "You wanna…you thinking we could wait another hour before lunch?" I made a choice.

Ethan looks to me, then to the clock, then back to me. "See if the plains have filled back up yet?"

I try to be casual about it, even when my heart's starting to pick up the pace. "Couldn't hurt."

He looks back to me, then down the road. Down to where the players are, probably, turning a right, then a left, then moving straight on past the large exiting doors of town.

Ethan looks down the way.

"Yeah. Let's check it out."

\

 **Numbers of players remaining in Sword Art Online:**

 **9,702**

 **Major Changes in Jon's Character:**

 **Purchased 'Iron Gauntlets!' Increased Defense!**

 **Purchased 'Iron Boots!' Increased Defense!**

 **Major Changes in Ethan's Character:**

 **Purchased 'New Clothes Set!' Increased Cold Resistance!**

 **Purchased 'Steel Dagger!' Upgraded Weapon!**

\

 **Author's Note: Originally, I wanted a big, long skit with conversation on the emotional stuff each brother was feeling.**

 **Either further down the road...or today in-story.**

 **The reason I got it out of the way? Well, first, I watched Shawshank Redemption recently and saw on the first night the new inmates cried. That got some of the emotional crap out of the way early on. The extremities of being in prison are made bare. I figured it wouldn't be much different in this place, though maybe a bit placated by having your brother around for help. Second, I suck at emotional scenes. Seriously, I am absolutely horsecrap with them. So, I just wanted to get it over and out of the way. Focus on the good stuff that this story is for and what SAO canon lacked. **

**The fun. The intensity. The thrill for survival and besting this game.**

 **Let's enjoy this story. The emotional stuff will still come, but it will come on my terms. When I feel it needs to be here.**

 **This story is about hope. Fun. Adventure. The thrill of the unknown, which I intend to give.**

 **Folks. This is Two Brothers.**

 **Next Update : 8/10/2017**

 **HEADS UP. NEXT UPDATES AFTER CHAPTER 15 WILL TAKE LONGER TO UPLOAD. I AM ALSO WORKING ON THE BEAST OF GREMORY AND HEART OF AN ARC.**

 **WILL STILL WORK ON CHAPTERS. JUST NEED MORE TIME. WILL CONTINUE TO POST EXPECTED NEXT UPDATE TIMES.**


	15. The First Month II

Title: Two Brothers

Summary: We don't speak the language. We can't read the words. The menu is a troll. Half the time something wants to kill us and the other half is us trying to kill it. In short: Sword Art Online is the worst thing ever. OC Duo First-Person Narrative

/

 **November 10, 2022**

/

Shit, this is foreboding.

Okay, fact: most video games work around a basis of limitless resources. Unlimited money. Unlimited possessions. Unlimited ability to pick up experience from enemies or challenges, quests or events. Most games that work under an RPG formatting are no different. Especially in the case of online playing; it defeats the purpose of a game if it's content is limited and the more active players reap questlines, experience point zones, or general income places, which then leave the more casual players without any manner or capability to level up or purchase items. No one really wants to buy a video game and find out that everything about the world in it is barren and devoid of anything valuable.

I guess what I'm trying to say is that it's just something most people take for granted. That limitless splendor.

Yeah, SAO gives a big middle finger to that.

Sword Art Online was somewhat infamous in its deviating from this rule. At least online and through the forums. It sold a strong message of 'first come, first serve,' to anyone interested. That places where enemies spawn could eventually run out, that some quests were limited to playability to those who discovered them first, and that even some Skills and weapons were only going to be useable by select guys and girls.

This was a broken base topic for a lot of people.

On one hand, that makes it more competitive. Some like that. I liked that. On the other hand, those who just wanted to enjoy the full capability of the game's engine would be disappointed when all the good loot and monster sites would dry out.

This brings me to now.

"Thanks, Kayaba."

The plains – or, more specifically, the plains closest to the north gate – are clear. Not a boar. Not a wolf. Not a nothin'.

Three days ago, this place was spawning monsters like nobody's business. Plenty of loot and Cor to go around. Two days ago, same as the day before. No end to the good, easy times in sight.

Yesterday? We went out hunting early. Jon noticed it first how the spawning seemed slow. The lack of Blue Boars numbering around. Not even a Dire Wolf to be found. We had our fill, but compared to the first two days, this was mediocre pullings. Not even much items to be had. We didn't think much on it, mostly because it started to rain around lunch. It got cold, wet, and miserable. Some others still went out, but I admit I wasn't fighting in the rain. Definitely not with that lightning around. Wouldn't put it past the game master himself to make those bolts legitimate one-hit death beams from the sky. With my tiny knife as a conductor.

Now today: "This place's picked," I said, mostly for my benefit. Not a sign of fur or blue to be had. Not much movement, either, aside from some players venturing out on the main road from town.

"Seems that way," Jon agrees. "What do you wanna do now? Head into the woods?" He eyes the forest edge.

I shook my head. Not quite that desperate yet. "Probably have to head out on the road. Make our way to the next town, see if they have anything useful going on." Some players were already gone. Even Jon could see them over there.

Speaking of, I'm not sure how he's taking my suggestion, but he doesn't argue. "Alright," he says, "then what do we need? Anything special?" Precautions.

"No clue," I admit. "Probably just some food, water, potions and stuff. We'll figure stuff out from there." I've perused enough survival genres to know going anywhere unprepared is basically like tying a big sign to yourself, reading 'I'M A COMPLETE SCHMUCK! COME KILL ME, PLEASE!'

"Let's get to it then."

/

 **TB – E**

/

The main road of Floor One fits pretty nicely with the rest of this medieval setup.

No concrete. No sidewalks. Just a dirt road carved out of the wilderness. Simple and walkable. Plain and clear views on everything around. Monsters won't usually spawn on it, so no chance of walking into a sudden Dire Wolf. Not unless you're unusually unlucky. But you'll get your 'random encounters' in the spaces beside the road. No way of avoiding monsters entirely.

It does split up at some places. Some go west, east, and one straight north. Some picket signs here and there, but I can't vouch for whatever they say. Japanese text. I just have to go by memory on what's here or there.

Closest village to the Town of Beginnings is Horunka. You could actually see a bit of it from on the hill next to the plains. It's a smaller village, but it sold some unique items and had a few quests to look into. Might have been a good place to look into, but I had a feeling it could have had a large gathering of players already. The road showed definite signs of player activity moving in that direction. Which makes sense; like I said, it's not too far from the main town, which I think was starting to become a sort of 'rock' for people to hold onto. The only safety zone here, protection from death, because unlike the opening city, these smaller villages and towns don't have barriers or safety precautions to them.

What that means is that, sure, monsters won't spawn in them. At least, they didn't in the Beta. But if you dragged a monster into town, it wouldn't just leave you alone. I saw players run into shops to get rid of monsters, only to see it follow them in and still try to kill them. And the NPC shop owner! No one was safe!

It was funny then. Their reactions. The idea of that happening now isn't so much.

"Anywhere you want to check out first?" Jon asks me after we walked awhile. It's not hard to see how he's focusing on everything around us. Hand at the sword.

"I was thinking," I started, bringing out my menu and scurrying to the map, "that we'd check out Passona, for starters."

"And where's that?"

I move the map closer, pointing. "Right about there." Northwest, above Horunka. The fog of unseen map covers an image of it, but a blue dot tells me something is there. "Small weapon shop with a weapon repair area. A forge. Couple item stands. A good-sized inn. Some spawning sites for Scout Kobolds from the Beta. Could be good to give it a look."

Passona, unlike Horunka, didn't have as many shops. Horunka, as I recall, had safer hunting sites. Nothing really touching past level one. Easy starter town. But Passona had stronger enemies – level twos and threes with the rare four – and I was willing to bet that we'd be one of the few gutsy enough to have a go at it so soon off. Besides, the area north of it was open plains, so easy to maneuver and we could see everything around us. I'm not willing to jump into any woods, just yet.

"Kobolds? Dog men?"

"Uh, yeah," I'm actually surprised he knows them. "Walk on two legs, light armor, good senses, usually a dagger or small sword equip." Look at me sounding all game savvy and professional.

"So they'll be like us. Probably." Jon frowns. "They'll be tougher than the wolves."

I kinda hoped so. Gets kinda tiring beating pigs and dogs for three days straight. Mind you, I want to make it out of here, so having things be easy would be all well and good. But that stupid gamer in me that ignores survival instincts doesn't want that at all. I try to ignore that part of me.

"It's like you said, we'll play it smart. See how they work." Start with one alone, beat it, repeat a few times until maybe we feel like going up against a pair or trio. Barring the sudden pack of Dire Wolves on our first day, taking things a little easier than that wasn't a bad idea.

"Got any advice?" Jon asks me.

"Go for the skin. The armor should only be on the torso. Maybe a helmet. Go for the arms, legs, neck, trickle the health down. They fight better in number, but even alone they're like us. They got some kick to them. Definitely smarter AI then you'll usually see." Kobolds were one of the most sold figurine merchandises in the real world. They were iconic, brilliant game fighters, and were the first things to exemplify straight up bipedal versus bipedal fighting. The vicious things made headlines on their savagery and ingenuity.

But those were only the Ruin Kobold Troopers. Level seven monsters. Kobold Scouts were simpler, manageable monsters. Even level one Betas knew how to handle them if they actually fought with some interest.

"Hmm," Jon comments. I can see it, though. The gears working and turning. Memorizing this down. "How long will it take to get there?"

That's an excellent question. "Haven't a clue. Barely even sure we're going in the right direction." Jon has been letting me take charge in some of the decisions we make. And up to this point, I thought I was doing pretty well. "The floors are massive. Could take a while to get anywhere." Horses weren't available until Floor Three. Walking is the only thing to do.

Jon stares down at me. "Right…" He goes back to looking around. Definitely more alert now than before.

Oh, ye of so little faith…

/

 **TB – E**

/

The road to Passona wasn't that bad. Weather was good, only saw a few other players around, lazing and relaxing under a tree or bit of grass, and the monster spawns were minimally difficult. A few boars, more Dire Wolves. First time the wolves outnumbered the pigs. Even had to deal with a level two for the first time. Wasn't much harder than the level ones, but it was bigger, the bite and speed were just a bit more than either of us were used to, and it stood as something of a pack leader amongst the other spawns. A sure sign as any that we were getting further into the harder spaces of the floor.

On a positive note, we got good experience. I'm almost level three. Leveling up has never been so hard in a video game before.

Consolation: I've got more experience then Jon. And that means bragging rights.

The First Floor of Aincrad is marked as being roughly ten kilometers in diameter (in American, that's just over six miles). It's wide, but aside from the walking and the need to fight oncoming baddies, it wasn't all that hard or long before we found the end of our road. Passona isn't nearly as grand or opportune as the designs behind the Town of Beginnings, but it's good enough. Serves as a kind of rest zone for players.

And best of all? No crowds. I don't see another player around.

"Alright," Jon speaks up, "I'll order us a room at the inn. You go check out where you wanna plunder."

"Right." He means for me to find a place for us to camp and grind. A good spot to start off experience grabbing. Plunder is…Jon-talk. He's trying to be game savvy, he really is.

One of the downsides of the Town of Beginnings is it's limited rooming arrangements. Took us most of our first real day to figure out where the inns were. Then to figure out how to get a room for both of us, which was hard when most inns were single room and sold out of space (language barriers made figuring out that part just so much fun). Took six inns and near midnight before we found a cold, dusty old spot in the east side to get a place of our own. We learned quick how to hold a couple rooms for us to use later in the day. Worked out nice for us, then.

Oh, and for the record, the places were so cheap they offered no sleeping buffs.

Cold, unpleasant and nothing positive to show for it. Thanks, Kayaba.

Well, whatever. It's not exactly important when, compared to everything else, an uncomfortable sleeping arrangement is the least of my worries.

Now, the plains of Passona, what's there to say?

They're plains, same as the Town of Beginnings. Except, thankfully, with a distinct lack of boars. Oh, I can see them. Even from just passing the furthest house, closest to the area, I can see them. The new enemies. And they aren't alone, either; a few groups of players are about. A trio messing around and gauging a lone scout, a single dude handling himself against a particularly aggressive Kobold, and even a group of six having at a duo themselves. Biggest party I've seen yet. Good gear, too.

Well, we weren't the only ones here, but whatever. Place was still practically empty of players and full of some mean looking monsters. Kobolds, a few wolves of a brown colored fur, some actual deer spotted around and a particularly attentive looking buck. From Beta scoops, I know they carried E, or even D, class meat. It sells well and probably tastes better than Blue Boar. Wouldn't mind making up for yesterday's lack of hunting with a few dozen to sell.

Yeah. We could get our fill here.

"Anything good?" Jon walks up beside me, looking over the fields.

"I'd say we hit a good load. Got us some rooms?"

"Hmm. Sixty Cor. Good beds." This day just keeps getting better. "Those the Kobolds?"

"Yep. That one," I point out, "is Meany, Nasty, Real Nasty, Snarly, Bucktooth, Snaggletooth, and Jonny. Don't let the names fool ya, they're complete bitches."

"Language," shut up, I made you laugh. "Wanna go for…Nasty, was it?"

"Snarly, actually," I hadn't a clue who that one was, "and he's perhaps the biggest wimp of the bunch. All alone, he's just begging to be stabbed in the stomach." I love talking like this. Gets the digital blood boiling.

"I'll grab his attention, you stab him in the back?" Jon lays out the plan. Passing back ideas on the way here made the time fly. Don't even know how these guys work in the system, or if sneak attacks are a viable option, but that's why we're experimenting. See what works.

Actually, come to think of it, this is kinda funny. "Are we really coordinating on how we're going to kill this guy?" Definitely not normal conversation matter. "What's that say about us?"

"Nothing. They're not alive. They don't even bleed."

"Riiight. But this is still weird, right?"

He doesn't answer immediately.

"I wouldn't think about it too much."

I don't, really. Like he said, these things aren't real. Not like I'm going psycho from all of this. Sun shining, birds chirping, a good breeze coming through? Not exactly weather to feel depressed around, even if I've kinda made it a hobby at thinking on how best to butcher these things by now.

"Ready to go?"

Jon moves to the left. Obvious, slow, hand at the ready to pull, drawing attention. He's still carrying around the same sword that he started with, with a durability fix from yesterday at the blacksmith, but it should be able to handle anything fine from these low-level plains. He'd be fine.

I go right. Crouching low, trying to mix in with some of the higher grass, keeping my eyes on Snarly and anything else near me. Wouldn't be surprised for a monster to materialize beside me. Happened before, actually. Best to just keep a three-way job going; eyes on Snarly, eyes all around me, and eyes on Jon to get the signal to move. Sounds difficult, but not really. Had a little practice in keeping my eyes peeled since being in here.

SAO works wonders on your focusing on every little thing that may or may not kill you.

Snarly looks up from sniffing the ground. Ear perked, teeth bared, snarling as Jon makes his way closer to his front.

My brother pulls out his sword. So does Snarly, a short blade at his side. Nothing fancy, but still useable. Still need to be careful of.

Snarly goes first. Jump forward, nothing special or fast, short sword down to Jon's side. Compliments to my brother, he actually blocks the small weapon, widening himself out while keeping the Scout's back to me.

I move forward.

A couple more blocks. Jon doesn't make it look easy, but doable.

He makes a stab at him. To the chest, armored though it was, Snarly still shouted and moved some steps back. Not much damaged done, but stabs have a much higher chance of critting someone then a slash will. Harder to land, but potentially rewarding.

I move closer.

There are deer around me, but I don't see any Guardian Buck around. Maybe it still needed to respawn.

Jon catches one of the swings, bringing the monster's weapon to the side. Never seen someone punch one of things in the game, but Jon gives it a whirl. A solid right hook, the monster goes twisting back. More health lost to it; didn't know there were physics with arm movements that could generate damage. The more you-

Jon points his sword at it.

It's not a fancy move; me dashing to the stunned Kobold. I almost trip, even, running around a couple deer. But with the Scout stunned and still trying to twist back to my brother, I figure there's no better chance.

I don't dogpile it, tempting and ironic as the idea might have been. Instead, I do something a little crazier: piggyback stab.

Simple move: jump onto the back, wrap arm around neck, pull back on person/thing/monster, position knife approximately and shank.

Shank. Shank. Shank until it dies.

I could feel it twitching. Could hear it gasp and scream, trying to wave me off. Twisted right, left, adjusting itself at angles. It was lighter than I was, but had some muscle. Its elbow tried to get me in the cheek. And damn, if it didn't live up to that wet dog musk. Fun fact of the game is that your character, clothes, even your weapon can smell under the right conditions. Thanks to the Beta feeds, I knew the solutions were simple; clearing-clean potions or forms of water scrubbing. I smelled like boar by the end of our second day so it was good to remember something I honestly wrote off as an unnecessary.

Anyway, sixth stab in, I carved it out of the Scout's side. It was already low on health by then, but the final critical made it an easy mark.

One final growl, a whimper, and the whole Kobold body lit up then burst into shards.

And that makes one Kobold Scout down and out. And the rewards are…the rewards are…

Where's my popup?

"Ethan!"

" _Waarugh!"_

Wha-oh, fuck.

/

 **TB – E**

/

Status effects.

Basic game mechanic features that limit or enhance a player or character in some way. Sometimes temporary, sometimes long-lasting, sometimes permanent, usually a hindrance. Buffs and debuffs can be considered sub-categories of status effects. And in SAO, they are randomly activated based on location, enemy, area hit in play or attack used.

At the top left, right next to my health, the effect of whatever's deteriorating me can be seen. A few stars, twirling around in a circle. I see bright, yellow rings swirling around my head and it feels like I've gone a rollercoaster, two or three times to many, while munching on an extra-thick burrito.

This is stun.

Maybe the most basic of status effects, stun is a debuff which causes temporary immobility. Some monsters are able to cause this effect. It's a hindrance in almost any game involved with it but not usually life-threatening. And in SAO, the effect is temporary.

Seven seconds. I counted seven seconds where I couldn't move. My body fell to the grass, I tried to pick myself up quickly after feeling like a linebacker took me from the side and when I realized I couldn't move, I panicked. Couldn't even talk. I noticed the effects and yellow rings, but that first second was scary.

"Ethan," I can hear Jon, "Ethan!"

And I'm up. Feels like water was just poured over me. Everything's back in order, my health took a knock from the hit, but I am now ready to get in some good old-fashioned revenge here.

I did get a clear sign of what looked like Bambi's Dad about to knock the everlasting shit out of me. From what I gather, I think I might have aggroed him just as I was moving in for the Kobold. Might have just respawned, it's programming probably picked up I was moving through its herd, and now I am a new, fresh target for it. Antlers pointed down, ramming speed, the thing was much faster than the boars. In real life, I'd be dead with so many sharp edges going into me. In here, I just have a third of my health gone, possible critical hit, added in with a face-to-dirt stun. That's a cause for concern.

Now, Bambi's Dad: more commonly recognized as 'Guardian Bucks.' Level four monsters. Territorial, but not aggroed if you keep your distance from any of the herd of level one Plain Deer it keeps itself with. The thing stands tall, has good antler range, and better charging direction alteration then the boars. Decent attack, below average health, low defense. It's a simpler level four; on its own, even Jon and I could take him as level two solo.

But here lies the problem.

Guardian Bucks have this nifty and unfortunate ability called 'Rally.' It increases attack of all deer-type monsters around it and put them into a frenzy towards the thing that has it's agro.

Now, all those Plain Deer I mentioned before? The ones that, as programmed, are skittish and will usually run at the first sign of danger? The ones that have lower attack, defense and health then even a Blue Boar?

Yeah, they're attacking Jon in mass.

I don't wait. The Guardian Buck stands back as it's herd takes over. Over a dozen deer swarming Jon. They may not have the reach of the antlers like the buck, but they have kicks which will hurt and potentially stun.

Jon's stepping back, swinging his sword at anything close.

"Ethan!"

He's panicking. Can't blame him.

I charge the first deer. Its focus is elsewhere. Have I mentioned there are flanking bonuses here? 'Cause I just got a very relaxing critical to the chest.

Bang, boom, down. Fifteen more to – Jon's health just hit sixty percent.

"Jon!" I get his attention. "Run!"

/

 **TB – E**

/

Ah, running.

Or fleeing, retreating, other words for getting the hell out of dodge. It's one of the worst things to do in a video game. Escaping from enemies makes you look cowardly, weak, incompetent at playing and just downright a waste of time to watch. I used to get pissed at online players when they decided to run away from something that, if they showed a little more capability, would have been a no-sweat challenge for them.

So yeah, runners annoy me.

Does this make me a hypocrite now? What with me wanting to run? Because screw it, I don't wanna die. Dying is a perfectly viable, unhealthy option. And I am not going to the afterlife and telling how I got there by way of being trampled by a bunch of agro'd Bambi-Mommas.

Jon didn't seem to argue with that idea either.

We turned to Passona and booked it. The deer followed. And, surprise, deer are faster than humans. A couple even tried to nudge me in the side and trip me up.

Even their weak pats are costing me vital health points. I hit the yellow quick.

Jon gets to the first door available in town, holding it open while waving his sword at charging deer.

"Back! BACK!"

He looks ready to panic or go into a blood frenzy. But the deer keep their distance, afraid of what a clean hit would do to them.

Their hesitation makes diving through the door a breeze. Jon slams it shut right after.

The loud shutting echoes for a second. It's all I can hear. Then the cries and shouts from the deer make it through. I didn't even know they could make noises like that. I was half-worried their hooves would break down the door any second, even when a very convenient 'Immortal Object' purple popup appeared next to it. And because deer don't have hands, they can't open the door. So, by that logic, we're all safe and sound.

Actually, no. Never mind. Still worried. Fingers to knife.

Jon isn't any different. He looks ready to go three-hundred, full-spartan last stand in this…butcher's shop.

Can't say I imagined dying in a place like this.

This went on. And on. And on for what felt way longer than just the couple minutes I was keeping track of. More banging. More me flinching at every sound that looked like it probably came from the big, bad buck. More Jon looking between me, the health bar above my head, back to the door, and keeping his sword steady for anything ready to skewer us (even the butcher behind us, carving up his meat slices without a care or notice to the vicious beasts at his door, was not beyond my brother's stressed looks).

Yeah, that sucked. But like I said, it was only a few minutes.

Long, loud, unnerving minutes.

We looked out the windows. The deer were moving on. Looking rather chill, now, then the red-eyed, bloodthirsty demons they were a second ago. Even the buck looked rather passive, twisting around the houses and buildings back to the plains.

We still didn't leave. Not yet. Even when SAO's 'battle music' dimmed and fell off to the normal, song-less tune of the world, we still had to make sure. I wasn't even going to be disappointed that, by us running, we get no Kobold Scout kill award. There will be more. Much more. Making sure we didn't get a surprise trample from a secret ninja deer or whatever takes priority.

This butchery is our temporary haven.

Jon lowered himself from 'full alert.' Sword arm down, fingers not twitching, eyes looking calmly back to me and where we were.

"Jesus…" He takes a long breath. "…Christ."

That's about as much a 'what the fuck' as I'm ever going to get from Jon. But I agree with his terminology.

"Yeah," I breathe out, moving my knife slowly into its holder. I'll keep my hand to it for a while, but I think we're not screwed anymore. Even my health is starting to come back. "You alright?"

"Fine," he answers, which I translate as 'nope'. "Yeah, I…I'm fine. You?"

"Good. I'm good," I lie. Health a little lower than comfortable, but alive. That's winning, I think, by Jon's definition. "I'm just…I'm gonna take a minute here…that cool?" I'm taking a minute no matter what, but it's nice to ask.

"Yeah, that's fine." I expected he'd agree. Hell, he moved over to the sidewall and fell down, closing his eyes for a second and just breathing. Dude stresses way too easy for a cop. By deer, of all fucking things.

His sword chipped the floor as he relaxed. He didn't put it away.

/

 **TB – E**

/

Dad took me out hunting once when I was seven.

Turkeys, rather than deer. Just the two of us. A couple tents and a truck full of whatnot that could last us a week on our own.

I won't make this a long story about teaching me things or good times with Dad. Actually, it was more about the hunting that I remember. We found ourselves a nice-sized male one on our first day. Would have been a quick trip in and out for us. Can't remember what happened, but Dad either missed the shot or something spooked it off. We lost it pretty quick.

Turkeys are fast, who knew?

We spent the next two days looking for it. Or, Dad did. He might as well have marked the one we found as ours and wouldn't leave the area until we found it again. Couldn't even tell how Dad knew which turkey was which, but he skipped over four or five others. Wouldn't accept any other turkey. And when we found it again, we didn't let it get away. I'll admit, it might have been the best Thanksgiving turkey we ever had.

Now, why do I bring this up now? Well, back then, I always figured I took more after my Mom in most things. Jon was definitely more Dad, no question there. But I think, back then, I got it. That thing that tells me I am definitely his kid.

Dad wanted his trophy turkey. He put away a whole number of other birds because he knew what he wanted and wouldn't give up the hunt for it. I wanted me some buck, revenge against it making me do one of the biggest gamer vices ever. I could have grinded, got some better equipment, or just fell back from challenging the thing at all. But I knew what I wanted, just like Dad, and I wanted it now.

We're both a pair of stubborn dudes.

"Guardian Bucks aren't hard on their own. Kill them fast, cut 'em to pieces, dead. They've got low defense, so aim for the head, chest, and back legs to slow them down because they like to dance around. Even if the rest of the herd is rallied, they'll panic and run until he respawns."

"Head of the snake. Cut it off, body will wither."

"Exactly. Brutalize him. Rip him to pieces. Go for a decapitation, if you can." There aren't many sure-fire ways to kill enemies, but a missing head seemed to work well enough in the Betas. "Kind of lacks strategy, but different enemies need different tacts. Just turns out that YOLO-running him works pretty well."

"Sounds easy enough."

"I'll go for the back. Get the legs. You follow up with the front." I almost leave after that, but Jon grabs my arm.

"Remember; run if there's trouble. Got it?"

"Yes, _Mom._ "

I go right. Jon goes left. We circle around the herd. The buck stays on the outside, looking over the plains for outside worries. If we pass through the herd, he'll know. If we move around it, slow and easy, it's perception won't register us. It's a territorial monster.

I stay low into the grass when the popup appears.

 **Skill Unlocked!**

If I haven't explained it enough yet, I can't read this scribble. All I got is that it's a 'Skill Unlock' and the token image on the side. A figure looking like he's kneeling, squatting to the ground.

No idea what this is. Check it out later.

The buck looks my way. I keep low. It scans my way once, twice, thrice, then turns back to counter-clock scan around his herd.

It's the opening I've been waiting for.

I move to it. Knife out, pointed, aiming for the right side of its rear leg. I don't know how perceptive or the kind of senses this thing has, but it's ears do perk just as I can guess its within hearing range of my steps patting on the ground towards it.

Didn't matter much. I was too close. I stick my knife into the leg.

" _Weeeigh!"_

I was wrong to think that would be just it. Said leg reared back into my stomach. A nice solid pound, I fall back groaning. While pain isn't possible in the game, that numbing-tingle running through the spot where I got smashed isn't something I can just ignore. Plus, the fallback from the hit isn't anything I can just wave off, either. Even if I won't have a bruise, I'm going to lose the air and fall on my ass.

Good news? I lost my knife in its leg. And it was limping. No dancing from him.

Part one success.

Jon came next. Sword went for its head, which because the deer's focus was on me, he got a nice little flanking-surprise bonus. Right at the throat, I could see the gash of red, pixelated gore. Enough to throw the buck's focus back forward and screech in pain. And a nice chunk of health was gone.

Part two success.

It reared itself on its hind legs, trying to kick Jon back from causing it more pain. Problem was the balance of weight to the right leg was screwed by my still sticking knife. Game physics kicked in and the monster couldn't hold itself up, falling to the side before it could correct itself.

Another section of health gone. My knife was fallen on, driving it further into its thigh.

The Guardian Buck kicked and screamed as it tried to right itself from the ground. I could actually see it's hot breath come out as steam as it made every effort to right itself. It's health dipping already into the unnerving red above its head. I would have felt bad about it, but it's kinda hard when the red eyes and previous attempt at goring me in the side wasn't still fresh.

Besides, it's not real. Attitude and realism aside, it's like Jon said.

No blood, not alive.

Jon walked around it, avoiding the flailing limbs and biting teeth, and moved his sword down to its chest. A slow, easing motion. Nothing sadistic or harsh about it. I'd almost call it a merciful with how it went calmingly quiet after.

" _Waruuuh…"_

The dead Guardian broke. The herd went into a frantic run away from us. I almost wanted to chase after them, maybe to procure a few items or bits of experience but…wow.

Ever felt like the villain while killing something in a video game? I think I just felt that.

 **Result**

 **Exp – 211**

 **Cor – 31**

 **Items – 1**

A second popup.

 **YOU HAVE ADVANCED TO LEVEL 3! CONGRATULATIONS!**

I didn't feel so hot now that I killed it. Less awesome and more 'nice work, murderer.' "Let's stay away from the deer for a while. That…that kinda sucked."

"Yeah, I hear you," Jon moves to where the buck fell, waving his hands over my knife and handing it to me. "Wanna call it a day? Or go find some Scouts?"

It's probably not even much later then noon. And despite that…yeah, I'm not done.

"I could go for a little more."

Jon nods, not even seeming too surprised by that. "Alright then. Let's go hunting."

/

 **Numbers of players remaining in Sword Art Online:**

 **9,341**

 **Major Changes in Ethan's Character:**

 **Gained 'Hiding' Skill!**

 **Earned enough experience to level up! Current Level: 3!**

/

 **Next Update : 8/15/2017**


	16. The First Month III

Title: Two Brothers

Summary: We don't speak the language. We can't read the words. The menu is a troll. Half the time something wants to kill us and the other half is us trying to kill it. In short: Sword Art Online is the worst thing ever. OC Duo First-Person Narrative

\

 **November 14, 2022**

\

It's been a week.

We're still in the game. Am I surprised? A bit. But in my defense, when there are seven billion people outside and no one can figure out how to work around a single guy's deathtrap, I am allowed to be a little shocked.

But, concerns on the full capabilities of my common man aside, I'd be lying if I didn't say I'm starting to grow a little used to all of this. Used to this game. Used to not thinking about all of this every minute of every day. The fighting, the red eyed monsters, the cries and the woods and the depthless edges of the world and the willingness of us all to run towards it. The weight of everything, pounding down, without even so much as a commercial break.

I couldn't even go a few seconds before. Now I can go a few minutes.

They're nice minutes.

We breathe a little easier now. We aren't so stiff, so guarded. The worry that anything and everything might break at a moment's notice isn't so strong anymore. Not so harsh or unforgiving a thought. We don't worry that the world will implode at any moment.

"If a guy can create revolutionary technology, build satellites, and trap ten-thousand people into a death game he himself created, then he's not going to make the mistake of letting the ground fall apart beneath our feet," Ethan said last night. "As crazy as this whole place has been, it still works under guidelines. Rules, just like any game. There's gravity, there's air, there's sound, there's actions and reactions. We need food and water and comforts to live. And how do we get them? By using money. And how do we get money? By killing monsters. Simple, step-by-step, easy to remember. Standard RPG mechanics."

Not sure how this conversation started. We were eating dinner – deer meat over a fire with a nice bit of warm cider from the general – before Ethan decided he felt like talking.

Nothing wrong with it, but it did come off somewhat randomly.

"RPGs work because we only experience risk through our own actions. Our choices define our experience and world. We make the story and challenges around us. We decide to put ourselves into possible danger. If we decide to move forward from this place, it's because we decided to. We chose the risk. Nut job that he might be, I think even Kayaba can admit that. That's why monsters don't spawn in towns or safe zones. Because he's not going to force anyone's decision for them. The choice has to be ours to make. And with every choice, there has to be opportunity. Opportunity to progress. To move forward. Instant death zones with zero percent chance of survival no matter what? _Lame_. Where's the progression in that? Kayaba said we need to make it to the last floor to get out. Can't do that if an unbeatable thing blocks the way."

"Do you really think a guy like Kayaba is really all that concerned with fairness?" I had to ask.

"Beats me," he admitted. "I'm just guessing he's not a sadistic fucktard whose getting off on our pain. Best guess is he's got something planned or wants to see how we'll do. See if we can cowboy up and meet him head on. But because he has plans for us on higher levels – things he designed through who knows how many months of imagining – I don't think he's going to put in something so stupid like death zones. It's a dumb choice in games that aren't around survival. If he just wanted people to die, he could make it rain acid. Drop pieces of the second floor down on us. Make monsters way harder than these level one craps. If he's going to play worldbuilder, death-decider, all-of-your-lives-belong-to-me god, he's going to want to test his place out. See how people deal with it. Fight against it. He wants people to go on terms that he's decided and are possible to overcome. Putting a level one-hundred dragon at the start wouldn't really help illustrate that, now would it?"

I stayed quiet for a minute or two. Hard not to think on that.

"How do you think this stuff up?"

I meant it as a joke. A way to get rid of the tense air that always comes up when we mention Kayaba. The answer I got wasn't one I expected.

"I just figured, if I could trap people in here, that how I would do it."

We didn't talk much after that. I watched the hundred stars glistening, Ethan looked on as a couple parties made their way out into the night for some moonlit grinding, then eventually we hit the inn's beds.

And funny thing? It's only in our belief to the capability of Kayaba's insanity towards playing the proper role as both god and gamemaker that I rested much easier that night than ever before.

\

 **TB – J**

\

Ethan and I like to keep to a routine.

First in the morning, breakfast. Whatever we can find, but we try to keep to the normal stuff. Deer meat is easy to get, cook and eat, but that's usually our lunch and dinner. We aim for sausage or something resembling a brown biscuit, add a little morning variety to shake things up, with maybe some bread on the side. Could do with a little butter, but I've got no complaints otherwise. Add a little milk to swallow it all down and it's not actually a bad morning meal.

After that, grinding. With a mix of mining (I think that's the game term for moneymaking) on the side. Aside from the usual Cor from monsters, we figured out the selling option for the game. It's actually pretty simple – put the items you want to sell on the shop counter, wait a moment for a panel to open up with a list of our loot, some numbers on the side which depict both the number being sold and the Cor we are about to receive, click accept, and that's all. Instant Cor, with an added bonus of feeling like a huge weight's been taken off my shoulders.

Loot has mass. Didn't even notice.

Do this until around noon where I then cook up some lunch. Which, if I'm being honest, is a little annoying now. The cooking option is fine, but there's a little problem with actually following through the action. I've earned the 'Cooking' skill now. Whatever parameters were needed for it, I managed to get them. Happened a couple of days ago. I was just cooking lunch and 'pop' came the screen.

 **Skill Unlocked!**

Steaming pot next to the words, coming up right after I was getting lunch ready for us, pretty self-explanatory on what I just got.

So, I clicked accept. And there's where the issue started.

A new popup came up after it. One with big, yellow exclamation points beside the 'Are You Sure' message. Even the box itself was a shade of yellow which told me that something serious could possibly happen in the next second.

I turned to the resident expert on this stuff for his expertise.

"Oh. That's saying you don't have the space for a new Skill," Ethan told me. "Skills take up a limited number of slots inside each character. Each character starts at two open slots and can work up from there. I think it's at level four where we'll get a new slot opening. Then level eight, twelve, sixteen, twenty, and then every ten levels after that. So, levels play a part in just how many skills we can hold. Until you reach level four, you won't be allowed to take on Cooking."

He paused for a sec.

"Wait, no, that's not entirely true," he pointed to the screen in front of me. "That's asking you if you want to exchange one of your skills with this new one. Basically, if you want to get rid of a Skill for a new one. So, you'd have to get rid of either the One-Handed Sword or…whatever else you have, and exchange it."

Simple enough to get. One thing for another, equal exchange. Unless I wanted to just wait until I hit level four.

I was about a third of the way past level three when the message popped up, so I figured it made sense to just wait. If I decided I wanted cooking then, great. If not, no harm done and I still keep the two Skills I had.

But there's a problem.

See, the Skill popup for Cooking is a bit of a prick. I cook twice a day for the both of us and every time I put a bit of meat on a stick and hold it over the fire, the menu decides then is the best of time to remind me that I am more than able to exchange my perfectly usable Skills now for what it's offering. And it does this every time I try to cook something – new pieces of meat, vegetables, reheat sausage, warm up some cider, the bonfires have turned into my own personal messengers for advertising Cooking.

First couple times, funny. Eight or ninth time, annoying. And after that…

 **Skill Unlocked!**

 **Skill Unlocked!**

 **Skill Unlocked!**

 **Skill Unlocked!**

 **Skill Unlocked!**

Yeah.

After lunch, more fighting. I actually think we're getting pretty good at it. Kobold Scouts, Guardian Bucks, some oddly colored Dire Wolves – no more running away. We're making good progress. And money, too. Having a little cash on hand never hurts. Plus, I can practically see Ethan putting in the numbers to his mental calculator for how far we need to go for that cool knife. Kid's in love.

After that, dinner, rest, wait for tomorrow, repeat. A simple routine. A routine which is about to get much harder…

Metaphorically speaking, Passona is being invaded. By players, I should explain that, not monsters. As where before, the most we had in the way of players who were passing through and working out Passona's fields were in the upper forties, maybe touching on the fifties by now. Enough to work with comfortably without running into others. More than enough space, really. Even the inn was spacious enough to accommodate and the rewards were plenty enough to go around.

Today? Now we've got maybe seven or eight times that.

"They're probably from Horunka," Ethan surmised, watching as a small group of Dire Wolves tried to keep pace with a rather aggressive band of seven. "Maybe the town was running low or the quests were running out…"

They're like locusts. Hundreds of players, stabbing and wrenching their weapons through any number of enemy they could find. Each fought for scraps, occasionally running through one enemy to fight against another on the side. Even if said monsters had four others already on it, new players decided they wanted a piece of the plentiful action. And this brought on new issues in itself; some players were even starting to get into fights with others, screaming and pushing against those who were getting in their way or stealing their monsters.

I'm not even going to try to police that.

"We're going to have to get out of here."

Yeah, we would. "Where to?"

He pulled out his menu (one swipe of the finger and everything came up, the show off). The map appeared, showing much less fog then it did a few days ago. The rough area of Passona is viewable, with an outline of town and fields clear to see.

"Wanna head there?" I ask, pointing to the single blue dot north of us. Another town.

My brother shook his head. "Oh no, that's Harutu. Level six and up monsters. Place had the highest death ratio for noobs in the Beta," Ethan ran his fingers through his hair. "Kobold Soldiers, whole platoons of 'em, pwning everyone who didn't know what they were doing. And there was a whole lot of them. It's considered one of the better places to check out if you're getting ready to take on the First-Floor boss, but I wouldn't go there even if you gave me a million Cor. Even level nines took dirt naps up there."

Nasty reputation. "Okay. Then here," east.

His eyes turned that way. "Woods." He let the word hang. "You want to go there?" There were woods. A few of those platforms with small town-like places on top. Still wasn't sure if we could even make it on top of those platforms. Wasn't so interested in trying.

I thought on that way. The dark of the woods. The players that went in and never came out. "We'll leave that as a _maybe_ ," a very unlikely maybe. "Then…where?" My finger went over the map. Towns, places covered in fog, random places everywhere. Where, oh where, would our little party go?

"How about…west?" Ethan's finger nudged the space between the map's edge and Passona. "We haven't checked there yet." Fields for hunting were to the north. Similar ones to the south, if a bit smaller. West, though? Stone formations, a couple steep cliffs, and a rockier edging than anywhere else. We didn't venture there, but we did get close around nightfall a day or two before. Curiosity, mostly. Wanted to see what it looked like and we thought it would be a good spot for dinner.

It was. Stone can be surprisingly comfortable, and warm, to sit on.

And better yet, I don't think I've seen anyone go that way yet.

"You sure?"

"Don't feel like going back to Beginnings," he said. "And I don't feel too cool with going to Harutu. So, either we go into the woods or check out what's behind the rocks." Rocks or trees. "Wanna flip a coin?"

I would. Except I don't know if Cor is a coin or bill. Or how I can pull it out of my menu. Barely know how to pull up my menu half the time.

Deep, dark, forbidden woods where players went in and didn't come out…or rocks.

\

 **TB – J**

\

Crevice Goats are annoying.

"Billy Goat Gruff's gonna die!"

If I were to describe them, as their name suggests, they are goats. Bulky, thick muscled level twos and threes. Horns were more shaped in a curve, rounding around the ears and glistening an ebony shine. They didn't look so much like horns but instead appeared more alike to the rocky formations around. As if these things had taken pieces of the black stone and stuck them to their heads. Their fur was a distinctive white, which contrasted with just about everything else in the area they occupied. Warm, I suppose, with it's thick wool, though I can't really say for sure. Haven't been trying to touch these things. Mostly, I've been trying to kill them.

"Why! Won't! You! Di- _argh_!"

They're a bit aggressive.

One of the most troublesome things about Crevice Goats is its ability to leap. These things can jump the rocky formations of westside Passona without a missed step or tumble. And they can be _fast_. One second they're above, next they're beside you and trying to ram you into the wall or off a cliff (I almost fell in our first fight). And that's critical damage right there if they succeed in a wall slam.

"You're gonna die, Billy!"

If I remember right, some games have those enemies – the particularly annoying ones – which just prove to be the absolute worst for you as a player. Whether it's because they're difficult, play funny, appear way too often for your liking or just because someone else might just leisurely strong arm them without a problem where you take an hour to make it through them otherwise, some games just have their monsters which work to stress you out. They're the ones which won't let up, won't let you get away, make the most ear-ringing sounds and prove to be an otherwise major pain in the rear then I or others would have them be.

Evidently, that category of enemy just happened to fall under as Aincrad's resident albino rock-jumping goats.

" _Bleggh! Bleggh! Bleggh! Bleggh! Bleggh!"_

And they never. Stop. Bleating!

"Suck it!"

Though, benefit of lower enemy levels and not having a very high attack power, these monsters have a reasonably easy attack pattern.

When a Crevice Goat charges, they don't stop until they hit something. If not a player, than a wall or rock works just fine. Dodge, let the goat hit a wall, which will leave it stunned for a second or two, which leaves it particularly defenseless.

Simple enough. Except they also have unreasonably high defense to go with their speed and seemed rather immune to our sharper tools. Best guess by Ethan, they have a passive immunity to them. Blunt weapons would work better then sharp ones – hammers had strong effectiveness against stone enemies in the Beta. Not sure how much of a earth standing these monsters have, but the black horns give me reason to believe they have just enough reason to be placed under the category.

Needless to say, we're not carrying anything blunt with us.

" _Breee-cck!_ "

Well, doesn't matter now. Ethan just beheaded the last one.

"Yes! Finally! Bill is dead! I killed Bill!"

And that makes eight.

I'm starting to get why nobody is coming over here. Between the parkouring goats who make traversing this place look like a child could do it, to their random attack points, to the fact that an odd fog is making this walk through a bonafide pain in the rear, and I can see why others might have not been so keen to try this place out.

I don't even bother to check our rewards. Last two fights happened right after I looked over the numbers. Surprise attacks are the worst.

" _Fucking goats."_

"Language," same old, same old. "You alright?"

"Yeah, yeah," Ethan answers, leaning back to some rock. "Just…goats, man. Demonic, stinkin' goats."

He gets like this sometimes. A Blue Boar, level three, pricked him yesterday. Had more health, more attack, bit bigger, but the speed and pattern of attack was the same. Just a particularly more aggressive boar, that's all it was. But Ethan got tapped twice. Almost lost thirty percent of his health then, actually.

He was not happy at nearly being handled by the boar. Was quiet for a good fifteen minutes after that, until he killed a couple kobolds and, in his own words, "reclaimed his honor."

He actually touched on level four from doing so, for that matter. I still have some exp to go…

"Hey, you ready?"

Ethan's standing again. His eyes look to me, adjusting the knife at his side.

"Wanna keep going?"

I don't, really. The number of goats attacking is going up. Two more, just now. Meaning this place is probably going to get harder the further in we go. And the fog has only gotten thicker the further in we went (game has weather conditions, fog is a condition, I shouldn't be as surprised as I am). The rocks look to be getting sharper, meaner edges as we move to the edge of the map. Even I have to worry what one possible misstep might mean. My death? Ethan's death? Ours? And who's to say what might be behind boulder one, two, and three just up ahead? The equivalency of the goat god of death and ruin could be there, imposing at level thirteen, and what could we do about it?

That's some serious food for thought. Enough to induce a serious case of paranoia in me-

"Yeah, let's go."

-so I have no idea why I said that.

\

 **TB – J**

\

Holy crap.

"Ethan?"

"What?"

"Look."

Holy _crap_.

"…Oooo- _hoohooHOOOOH!_ "

"Right?"

Holy, _holy CRAP!_

"Holy shiii-way to go, Jon!"

We are…I'm not really sure where we are, actually, but here's a cave. Moving down the rocks, past some goats, marsh green things with scales and eyes three sizes too large for their heads, a few things that look like anemic flying penguins and a rock I swear was following us at one point, and we have found something actually different. And frankly, we're lucky on that; this place is a maze. And fog doesn't help with that idea. The stuff is thicker then bread, I barely can see in front of me.

But the cave.

I found it. Ethan almost left me behind, but I saw it. Just out of the corner, a shadow over the barely visible sun. Thought it was a monster for a second, it's shadow catching my eye. It's large, goes in pretty deep, and looks as if it were dug up rather than natural made. But, video game. Caves like these can be a relative norm, right?

But that wasn't the best part.

See, common ways to earn currency, even by my vaguest of video game memories, was through the wondrous exploration of unknown territories to discover untold riches. Presumably, and often times, through the discovering of 'chests.' Treasure chests, specifically, and they often looked like what you'd expect.

Wooden foundation. Iron edges. Locked front. Closed with hidden booty inside. Some of the best times in video games were finding one at the end of a particularly troublesome level or area. Sometimes spending upwards of an hour or two, traversing or fighting off unknown hordes to make it further through the inexplicably deep and designed foundation of the world. Hoping to find a treasure inside which would more than make up for the hassle and troublesome efforts put in to its discovery.

Why am I mentioning this now? Well, we found one.

A chest, I mean. A treasure chest.

We. Me. I. Here. Cave hidden in the fog.

Why is this important? Well, for one, I haven't found one yet in this stupid game. Not a single one. I was starting to think the only way to make money was through the slaughtering of local wildlife (wow, that sounded way less horrific in my head). Quests, maybe, but since I don't know where we can find a quest or communicate to any quest-giver to begin with…kill monsters, make money, repeat, simple enough. And two, Ethan's explained the whole 'limited resource' thing of the game already. Limited enemies, cash, experience, and such. I can't say whether that stretches out to treasure chests but…

Well, Ethan's excited. So, plus?

He takes point. Or, rather, he runs up to the chest without worrying about anything. Deep, wide, dark cave in the middle of the rocky zone of Floor One? In the middle of a monster infested zone? Caution to the wind. Great.

I have my sword out, looking to every even vaguely suspicious looking corner or crevice. I have memories of enemies falling on my head in these kinds of situations; hanging on the ceiling for unexpecting players (me) to be stupid enough not to perform a sweep of the room for any and all suspicious activity. I remember, because I might have possibly yelled my head off once or twice when it happened. And no matter what Ethan says, I _don't_ scream like a girl.

I'm still looking at the ceiling, expecting anything from a hive of dog-sized tarantulas to a man-eating rabbit to jump out of nowhere, when the creak of the chest catches my ear. It's a loud, rusted, grinding noise which-crap, the room's glowing red.

And ringing.

" _Ethan_ -!"

"Wasn't me!" His hands leapt from the chest as if it were on fire.

The ground started to shake. Earthquake? Did Aincrad get earthquakes? The worrying red lit the cave in a vague light, letting us to see every inch of the room as it was unsettled by the tremor. Dust from cave corners shifted and fell around us, tiny stones bouncing off to the side and echoing with the rooms disturbing sounds. I had half-a-mind to run for the exit, but my legs couldn't keep steady. I fell, trying to keep my vision straight as I kept watch of Ethan, who similarly scrambled to stand even as the movements swatted him around back to the dirt, and towards the entry where-

Rocks were falling.

The doorway, the way we got in, was covered quickly. The limited shine of light from the day's sun, somewhat dulled by the fog, was quickly covered by earth and nugget. One after another, stones the size of tires fell and placed themselves neatly over our way out. Crackling and slamming with impressive force. Force, I wondered, if we were under those rocks, would we be dead now?

Not a very placating thought.

Then, when the last bit of light left, and the room was left in a dark, almost foggy red radiance, then the turning of the world stopped.

And… _Jesus Christ_.

"Ethan?" I yelled. I didn't realize I was out of breath. Or that the air was now very humid.

"I'm alive!" Ethan yelled by…by where the chest _was_. "Check my health, I'm fine!" I looked to the corner of my eye. No health taken on his part. None on mine, either. We're fine, mostly. "What fucking hell was that?!"

"No idea," I admit, honestly. Never saw that in the videos. "You?"

"Uh…" he took a look around the now red room. "I got nothing."

New feature? "Well-"

Another shudder came from the room.

Not a quake like the last. It was more like a shift. A shake, but nothing more. And a loud, grinding noise from the corner.

The wall began to rise. It looked like stone, and clearly there was a thickness to it but as it lifted I could see another side to it. A hallway? A new exit? The red glow offered little help to tell, but there was something else there.

I won't sugarcoat it or hide my discovering of what they were. Those were toes.

The rock rose more. Knees. Thick legs. Very thick.

Gray and covered in what looked almost like scales.

More rose. A loin cloth over a crotch area. A thick torso. A belly. A thick belly. Paler, not so scaled as the legs, but still grayed. And supporting a fatness to it.

Then came arms. Thick digits. One arm was carrying something in it.

A Crevice Goat.

" _Bleegh! Bleegh!"_

It sounded scared, struggling in the hold. Those hands were around its neck.

A dense chest. Broad shoulders. A hard neck. The last of the rock lifted after, showing off a face. An almost uncomfortably ugly thing, I have to say, and I really mean that. I'm not usually one to judge, but the detail to this thing was on par with what I'd call 'disturbingly grotesque.'

A wide, long jaw sporting sharpened brown teeth and fangs, which looked alike to miniature stones in its gullet. Small, beady red eyes moving from side to side, as if testing the area or adjusting to the sudden glow of the new place. Tiny ears so disturbingly contrasting to its massive frame and bulk that I wondered if they could even function properly. It's nose…well, I'm not sure it had one, for the area which would usually sport it was now unusually rubbed and smashed, as if it were smoothed out aggressively by way of stone or an equally rough material. And its forehead, like most everything else about it, looked hard and callused. And how it curiously moved its eyes around us, I'd say this was an almost picturesque vision of a great big Neanderthal.

Standing tall, maybe eight feet or more, and positively dumbfounded by everything around it.

Neither of us dared move. Isn't that how that movie worked? Don't move, and it won't see us? I was willing to try that trick now.

" _Bleegh! Bleegh! Bleegh!"_

The goat didn't seem to acknowledge its helpless predicament. It's cries were almost pitying, even if it was something of a personal annoyance before.

This newcomer did not take kindly to the disturbing noise. It lifted the smaller monster, kicking and wailing, to its eyes.

" _Waaauuuurr_ _ **rrgggGGHH**_ _!"_

The room felt deafening for a moment. The roar echoed around us. I dared not cover my ears, for fear that even that moment would ruin us both. It wasn't hard to keep my full focus on this new thing, as I'm sure Ethan had no quarrels either.

The goat still shouted, but the new monster wouldn't have it. Lifting his captured prey high above him, he slammed the goat into the ground. A hard echo filled the room as the thing cried painfully from the attack, before the large creature lifted its foot, easily as large and wide as my head, and made to smash the goat's cranium like a bug. The game's mechanics meant there was no blood or gore or _brains_ needing to be picked after – the goat shuddered for a moment, whimpered, quieted, then dispersed like every other. But the implication and effect of the attack was still easily taken.

That was us. Or what could happen to us.

Then, slowly, the monster's head rose. It stared, long and hard, right at us. Right into my eyes. It huffed a quick, aggressive breath, stood straight and tall, then a title for this new foe appeared above.

"Jon?" The need for silence and stealth was gone.

"Yeah?"

"That's a cave troll."

" _WAAAAAAAAAUUU_ _ **UUUUURRRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGHH!**_ _"_

 **Juvenile Cave Troll – Lvl 6**

\

 **Numbers of players remaining in Sword Art Online:**

 **9,012**

 **Major Changes in Jon's Character:**

 **Leveled up from previous days! Current Level: 3!**

 **Major Changes in Ethan's Character:**

 **Leveled up from previous days! Current Level: 4!**

\

 **Author's note: Yikes. Anybody keeping track of that Player's Remaining score? Phew, not pretty.**

 **Oh, and the brothers are gonna have fun next chapter. Definitely. Certainly. Without question. First introduction of a 'trap' system in the games, along with some off-road exploration. Really had a few ideas where to go with this chapter and not all of them were great, so do forgive me if this one might not be to the exponential level you might already be familiar with in me. I had obligations I needed to see to that I wish I didn't have but life's tough that way. Can't always choose what you can or can't do.**

 **Also, sorry for updating late. Just got finished writing this bad boy up and mostly proofreading it.**

 **Next Update** **: 8/20/2017**


	17. The First Month IV

Title: Two Brothers

Summary: We don't speak the language. We can't read the words. The menu is a troll. Half the time something wants to kill us and the other half is us trying to kill it. In short: Sword Art Online is the worst thing ever. OC Duo First-Person Narrative

 **Author's note: Cock gun. Put it under my chin. Pull trigger. Gun jams.**

 **This chapter. _Oy vey._**

/

 **TB – E**

/

Beta testers showed a lot of their personal experiences through the NerveGear's visual sharing functions built into the helmet. They've shown Skill uses, weapon uses, secret spots for hunting, survival tricks, arguably the best AI functionalities known to man, visual spectacles and realistic sensory functions that looked damn-near impossible for what I imagined any technology could accomplish in the twenty-first century, the ways of actually beating the game through English-dubbed videos for American and beyond viewership, and above all the players highlighted everything they could about the monsters on the First Floors of Aincrad.

I watched players for hours. Players who became famous through their online names. If I were actually able to talk to anyone in this game and said the players name to them, I had a fairly good idea that the names would spout some memories or recognition through the player populations. Obviously not everyone streamed their work, efforts, or general enjoyment in the Gear, but most seemed eager enough to at least voice their experiences in either forums, reviews, and so on.

I watched how they dealt with pigs, picked off wolves, fought kobolds, messed around with insects, dissected man-eating plants and just about destroyed a hundred other kinds of monsters from here to the higher floors. Why? Because it was incredible. It was my drug. Couldn't understand a word anyone was saying, but I was getting off on the strategies and actual efforts needed to show a monster who was top shit. I probably spent a good portion of my August-to-October-of-2022 just absorbing what I saw. Even if I couldn't experience it, the absolute enthusiasm the guys and girls showed through their grit was enough to get me jazzed. Even when I realized the game wouldn't be shipped to the States for a long while.

Still, I watched. And I had a bit of fun doing it. But there's where the tricky part comes in now.

I've never seen this enemy before. This 'Juvenile Cave Troll.'

Never. Not once.

I've seen almost every monster popularized by the forums beforehand. Seen them killed in at least a dozen ways. But this guy? He's new. New design, soundtrack, body structure, smell – everything. And believe me, I'd have heard about something like this if it were posted anywhere. Trolls weren't supposed to be an enemy until Floor Six. They were large, bulky, usually carried a club or some sort of heavy tool as a weapon, had high defense and attack and a speed which, though not exactly agile, was coupled well with its size that made for a nasty brute to take on without at least four or five others. And they were just _intimidating_. They weren't as popular as the kobolds, but I'd be lying if they didn't have a reputation as 'That One Mook.'

How will this 'Juvenile' stack up?

"Ethan?" Jon's speaking. "How do we kill it?" The Juvenile wasn't attacking yet. Good thing? Were we supposed to make the first move? It just sorta yelled and looked us over.

But to Jon's question? "Uh," that is an excellent question. And with the ringing of the room's alarm, the red glow of the cave, and the odd pitch in my ear from the troll's scream, I'm kinda having trouble with the whole 'thinking' thing. "You have…"

Kill a troll? Weaknesses? Poor turning, climbable back, weaker spots to attack under the chin, belly, arm pits, and back of the legs. Harder skin all around. Damage reduction on the 'Cave' variety of trolls was insane. Hiding was the best option against them.

I had Hiding. I had that Skill. I could kneel down, stop breathing, and not make a sound and I'd probably make myself invisible.

Jon wouldn't be so lucky.

"I-it's-"

I couldn't finish. The troll lunged at Jon.

Give the man a medal, he wasn't stupid. Soon as the thing took a couple steps forward, leaping with arms held high and aimed to be brought down on my brother, Jon was already moving left. The man's fast, the troll missed by a yard. Dust and stones jumped at his landing, showing off its weight.

Jon had his sword out already. He moved for the thing's arms and cut into its shoulder. Sparks and the cry of steel against stone echoed from the blow.

The health bar above the troll didn't even seem to notice.

" _Waurrgh!"_

The troll glared Jon's way. He got the agro.

" _Ethan._ "

He didn't keep up the weak assault. Stepping away, Jon held up his sword in defense as the troll offered what might have been its equivalent of a casual slap. Even then, I could see how the gesture pushed him back. His feet digging into the floor didn't seem to help. His health wasn't shaken much, but that was more damage done to him then the troll felt.

Why wasn't I moving?

Jon swung again. Downward, to the monster's wrist. A sliver more damage than before, but that wasn't even dipping much.

The Cave Troll tried to retaliate. A more furious swing this time.

The move was readable, though. Plainly so. But damn, if Jon didn't duck in just the nick-of-time.

But the other arm came after that. Going for a grab.

Jon met it with sword to palm.

" _Weeeigh!"_

"Ethan!"

That actually look to do something. New weakpoint: hand. The monster did flinch back, surprised and growling. His health didn't take more of a dip than before, the attack gesture probably not registering as much damage to the creature, based by Jon's level and the desperation of the move, but it – why am I talking gamer now?

Why am I not moving?

My brother starts to play keep away. The troll follows. The charging monster closes in but doesn't quite make contact. His arms nudge and slap the sword a few times, but the damage is minor. Guarding without a shield isn't a solid move, unless a parry is managed, but it's better than nothing. Still, the chip damage done to the troll isn't compared to Jon's.

He's level three. It's level six. No surprise at all.

"Ethan!"

The troll gets him in the side, sending him into the wall. Serious knockback damage. My eyes wander to the corner of my view. The name below mine, 'Miller.' The bar shifts left. Way down. Close, but not quite to the yellow point.

I think that did the trick.

I run to the back of the troll. My hand pulls at the dagger, twisting it around.

This is crazy. This is crazy. This is crazy. This is-

I leap onto its back.

" _Aaurgh?!"_

I got a good hold. Protrusions, like mini stalagmites, make holding on easier than it otherwise would me. The monster rears to full height, feeling me from behind. But I don't really care; his right arm just lifted up, trying to reach for me. It's a close reach around, but not quite there. If I were Jon's height, I'd probably be in trouble.

Thank God or whoever decided to not let my growth spurt hit yet.

But I digress; the troll arm is reaching back, and the pit is open. Less armored skin shows. Still gray, but smooth. Open. Paler and more distinct then the rest of its build.

Could it have been a clearer target?

" _Weeigh!"_

Stab.

" _Waurgh!"_

Stab. Stab.

" _We-weeIIGGGHH!"_

Stab. Stab. St-oh, I _bet_ that was a critical.

I almost thought I had this on lock until the troll begins to spin. Fast, quick, shrieking and roaring aloud. Deceptively quick thing, I'll admit. I keep my grip tight on his back, but I have to wait. Can't keep stabbing and hoping I won't fall. Too erratic, too reckless, need better multi-tasking.

Can't see the health of my grappled, ugly, drooling, smells-like-a-clogged-up-toilet monster, but I'd like to think level four me can prove a somewhat troublesome foe here. I'd almost call my back-attack as a monster-breaker move, until the AI of the game decided to poke a large, me-sized hole into the plan.

The troll ran his back into the wall.

Didn't account for that. The spinning was – it got difficult to make sense of everything. Could barely figure up or down from where I was.

I fell. I had to let go. How could I not? Felt like I just got hit by Danny in a tackle. And my health showed for it – I'd need some armor. Definite armor. And a potion wouldn't hurt, either.

Oh, and I'm stunned. Shit.

The troll twists around easily enough. " _WEEEEIIIGGGHHHH!"_ I think that was his way of saying 'fuck you.' Just a guess. I even got some of his saliva running down my cheek to prove his dissatisfact-

It's lifting a foot over me.

The shadow of the leg and toes. The crimson glow of the room punctuating its horrible size, its red glare seeming to be punctuated further by it all, and the blaring siren wouldn't cease. This wasn't even fun, battle music. This room was designed purely for the sake of showing off that I, the player, have now been placed into a severely fucked up situation from which the price for perusing inwards could very well be my life.

I wish I had a mirror. I expect my eyes are very wide.

" _Aurrrgh!_ "

" _WEEEIIIIII!"_

Oh, but I'm not alone.

See, I can't really move my eyes when I'm stunned. Literally, I'm basically unable to move anything. Breathing, or what accounts for breathing in this game, is all I can do. So, staring up to the foot of the monster, with the troll's eyes baring down on me from its ridiculous height, who was probably looking forward to turning my head into slop, is what I'd describe as a very daunting and I-think-I-just-shit-my-pants moment.

Then the monster cried. Literally cried. I could see every little expression on its face. That was definite pain, or as much pain as I expect these things are able to resemble in the way of pain in-game.

It lost balance. The leg moved to the side of my head, just barely avoiding my nose. I could feel the air from my lungs pat against the leathery sole. And I was breathing a lot here.

The monster tried twisting, swinging behind him. I saw it, then. The silvery sword cutting under the monster's side.

Once. Twice. More crying and screaming.

My stun wore off. I didn't wait to put some space between us.

"Get away!"

Jon's face is the first thing I see. Teeth grit, eyes looking like they want to shoot fire into the monster, and I cannot describe that expression of absolute hostility. Never gave me a look like that before, and I'm kind of glad. Murderous is the best word I can describe it as, and even that sounds like an underwhelming descript.

He's moving around the troll, who still lays on one leg (the one which threatened to turn my head into mush), the other having a deep cut in the back of its knee. It couldn't move. It was immobile. It couldn't stand.

Jon's sword glows. _Horizontal_. He cuts across the stomach, earning more roars, more furious waving of troll arms, snarls and attacks all around. But Jon wasn't done; he rears the sword back, stabs it into the stomach, straight through, almost to the hilt.

I thought that would be it. Retreat, you idiot. The monster's health is falling!

But then, _wham_. Jon punched the troll.

No, not the troll to Jon. Jon to the troll. Literal troll-punching.

Right in the jaw. Hard. Once, twice, _thrice_ – and the health is still falling! That is actually doing damage!

Holy _crap_.

But then, Jon pulled back. Sword wrenching from the monster, still every bit of fury imaginable on a human's face plastered to his features, and he looked ready to go again if not for right then the goliath decided to rise back to his full height. The gash to his leg eroding away like all attacks before, his ability to move recovered.

" _ **WWWWAAAAAUUUURRRRGGGHHHHH!**_ _"_

It seemed intent on reaffirming its ferocity and position in the room.

Yeah, fuck that.

Scream all you want, we have the momentum. You have the health loss. And I have a sweet knife that's tasted troll blood!

Jon had the agro. The troll focused on him and I had his back.

But the lower back, along its spine, is lightly covered in stone. Not as rough or resistant as it's arms or shoulders seemed. A nice target, sure, but those legs? Those unguarded, unprotected legs? Those have promise.

I went for the first leg.

" _WEEIIGH?!"_

Not falling? That's fine.

Now for the other one.

" _WEI-EIIIGH?!_ "

Not working? Game wait timer on troll-crippling?

I look up. The body's starting to turn. I have the agro and its full attention. I don't think I have the defensive parameters Jon has.

Speaking of, God-fucking-bless that dude for being savvy with the sword and seeing an opening.

" _Auuurgh!_ "

As elegant a word choice as I would have used in his place.

Again, attack to the front. Sword glowing, front stab, right into the belly. A lunged move which I haven't the care for acknowledging its name now. I just retract the knife and, instead of stabbing, feel that maybe some cuts around the sides could be helpful.

Oh, would you look at how beautiful that knife of mine glows? Dark-green hasn't ever been my favorite color, but I think I can definitely see the appealing qualities of it now. Plus, awesome Steel Knife is awesome.

" _Wee-igh-igh-igh!"_

The troll is starting to get a bit more aggressive, bit wilder in its swinging. The lower the health, the more dangerous. Some of the stronger monsters in the Beta were coded like that.

Every direction, arms thrown, in the hopes of hitting either of us. Jon gets sent back by a swat, hitting the wall behind him. Hitting the yellow in his health. But if there was worry to his lowering condition, I don't think he was even aware of it. He got back up, no worse for wear or caring to his pain. I get a slap to my face, rough hand and fingers knocking my sense off for a second before I decide to stab it in the arm's bicep. Have I ever mentioned how criticals pass through a significant portion of armor and innate resistances? Because if I haven't, I should. I'm starting to fall in love with this simple thing and the way it slides into my foes with a sickening ease.

This isn't strategy. This isn't tactics. This is blatant, DPS the shit out of this thing as quickly as possible. Dodge, attack, dodge, block (in Jon's case, I dodge like nobody's business), attack like a madman.

Our health is dipping. I'm in the yellow. I've never seen Jon's health so low.

But this guy?

" _Waur…waah…wooh…_ "

This guy's _dead_.

Jon steps back. I follow. The monster is still swinging, though even without the slender bar of health above him, his fatigued aggression and slowing arms are obvious signs that damage is being done. That we are actually doing this.

My brother moves his arm back with weapon poised in a familiar manner. The sword glows quickly, humming as it shines a silvery brightness which almost feels comforting with how it contrasts the room's threatening red. Then, with a computer-assisted lunch forward, the sharp iron coursed through the monster's throat. Straight through, from the front to the back, the silvery glow of Jon's sword chimes its powered-up sound effect while slicing through the foe's gullet. Pieces of red, damaged skin splatter in the air for a moment, mixed in with the shine and pixels floating from the starter tool.

" _Weig…wei…weeeee…"_

Then, to finish, Jon wrenched his sword free, got into what I like to call the patented 'batter-up' stance, and swung that baby like it was going out of style.

Now, I can't say whether it was because of its low health, the effort put into the swing, or maybe because Jon finally got himself a critical on the thing, but that one-handed iron sword _carved_ through the stone-like neck of the troll and came out the other end like a knife to butter. Complete with an echoing shout of absolute effort and brutality I was not aware a boy scout like Jonathan Miller could ever make.

The head went flying.

It was as intimidating, eye-widening, all-around impactful as it was just so _goddamn_ cathartic.

/

 **TB – E**

/

It happened quickly.

First, the body of the troll left. Evaporating like every other thing we've killed, but I won't lie when I say that watching the corpse breakdown was ten times more gratifying then any other kill before it. Then the red of the room faded, but there was an odd shade that still lingered around us. I could still see because of it, though I can only imagine the light was a matter of game mechanics rather natural, virtual world physics. And lastly, a nice little message shouted above us, complete with a new, cheerful tune which was much appreciated when compared to the ominous tune from before.

 **Trap Completed**

'Trap.' Of course, it was.

Following that, the troll victory panel appeared. Cor, experience, items – I'm gonna peruse my victory gains later.

I need to breathe. Just a little. Virtual asthma I didn't know I had is kicking back up.

Take a knee, Ethan, take a-

Oh, I'm being hugged.

"Hey, bro?" Oh, tough breathing virtual air. "Bro, asphyxiation kills brain cells. Dwindling number. Need all of them." He's not lighting up. "Jon?" I try to tap him out. "You're not crying, are you?" I don't like crying almost as much as I dislike hugs. "Please tell me you're not crying, because I will have to hold it over you until forever-"

He's lighting up.

"Nice work." Dwe-wha? "Good, good work. With him." He patted my shoulder. "Two thumbs up."

Jon pulled away from me. He's…not looking great. Definitely looks like he's about to start crying. Like, droplets-on-his-eyes close. He's smiling, but it looks like it's physically causing him pain to do so. Hell, his arms are shaking – they're on my shoulders, and shaking me by proxy. This is all as comfortable as I can imagine a third-person party watching us must thing of this little exchange. And, I mean, seriously? Yeah, okay, my health dipped a _little_ lower than normal, but it's not like _I_ was in the red or-

Wait, hold on.

Alright, reprisal. Uh, so, I might have spoken a little too soon on that.

See, with the room buzzing and tinted red for the last however-long it took us to kill a cave troll, I might have secondhandedly lost track of my current health. For a second; it was all very intense and noisy and unexpectedly brutal and I was trying to keep track of a murderous, underworldly, eight-foot tall monstrosity. So, if my health _just_ dipped into the red and, possibly, camouflaged itself with the room's crimson, then I think it's a perfectly reasonable explanation for me to have, for a moment, _missed_ the shift from yellow to red.

See? Totally reasonable explanation.

Still, fuck me. FUCK ME. I'm in the red! Red – _DEAD!_

And Jon! He's – _ten percent! TEN PERCENT!_ That's red! That's very red! That's redder than red! That is a lot of empty space from green!

"Fuck the trolls," I kind of nod. Kind of to Jon, telling him, red health aside, I've still got a pulse. Kind of to myself, 'cause I now understand the reputation between trolls is warranted. And that was only a juvenile. "Let's get the fuck outta here."

"Lang…actually, never mind. That sounds good."

Exiting option choices available: the front way into the cave is still piled on with rocks. So, either that means we're gonna have to dig our way out, grab a couple teleport crystals Jon bought back in Beginnings (a basic 'return to town' option for players either in trouble or just want to save on time for a journey back (they are expensive at a thousand Cor a pop, too)), or there's the third option of going through the hallway the troll came through when I opened the chest-

Oh.

"Dude," I nudge my brother, pointing, "it's back." Jon followed my finger.

Dead center of the room. Ray of light pouring down from the ceiling, right over top the center of the space. As much a spotlight as if to say, 'hey, remember me' if there ever was one.

As if to signify as much the 'return of the treasure chest' as anything else.

Bit embarrassing, really, to admit that I did not notice it before. No sound effect or anything to signify its return. But there it was, the same as before. Just waiting to be reopened. Though, for obvious reasons, I'm not as interested in touching it again as I was…ten minutes ago? Fifteen? Where's a clock when you need it – how long were we fighting that thing?

"Should we…?" I start, leaving the obvious action open to guess.

Jon just stares at it. "Do you know any games that do double traps?"

Did I? "None that I can think of." Doesn't mean there weren't any. Just that I've never known anyone to have it. The surprise of any trap is lessoned if a storyline or experience just keeps layering on troublesome situations, one after another.

Still, Jon waits. I can see the gears moving in that head of his. The possible implications of a secondary trap popping up. With our health now, we'd be done and out. Our health would need a couple minutes before it would start to return naturally. "Do it," he says, "I have a good feeling about it." Never really one to trust on good feelings, but I'm not about to say no. If anything, we've earned this treasure. And it better be worth it, because if we just nearly offed ourselves for something like a shiny new helmet then I am going to be positively riveting.

I stepped up. If you'll pardon me a bit on my praying, I will now proceed with the opening of the chest.

Please don't kill me. Please don't kill me. Please don't kill me. Please don't-

As I lifted the lid carefully, a light shined from the crack of the chest _._ If that's not encouragement to open it up a little further, I don't know what is.

Forgoing hesitance, I threw the wooden lid open. The light took me by surprise with how it contrasted the barely lit cave. I tried to keep my eyes open, covering them though as I made out a small orb – the origin of the glow – rise up from the confines and hover steadily. An enthralling sound effect chimed as it made its way to eye level, keeping itself there.

Waiting, as best as I could describe it.

Can't say I hesitated much in response. My free hand reached forward, wrapping my hand easily around the spherical thing, and found a familiar congratulatory tune – not unlike when I leveled up before – to answer my action.

I could feel it. The orb taking shape. It's glow dimming as it stretched and shifted in my hand.

Something definitely metallic. Something long. Something-

 **Skill Unlocked!**

Wait, what the huh now?

New panel. Skill. New Skill. Unlocked. Can't read the name (nothing new there) but the logo is catching my eye. I've tried to memorize which logo does what, just from pictures on the net or descriptions and whatnot, but the icon to the left? Most are pretty easy to guess on what they stand for, but I don't think I've seen this before. Never in the Beta feeds or notices. Not even sure what it is. It's, frankly, kind of a weird one.

A guy with his hand over his eyes?

This is…I think it's new. Never seen it before. Does it have something to do with the chest? Is that the trigger? Is it something good? I have room for a new Skill, being a recent level four, but…I don't know what this is. And that's weird for me – I'm the SAO guy. I thought I knew everything there was to know about this stuff.

What does that mean?

Is it new? A new Skill? New to the game? I know the Beta was just the Beta, but that didn't mean there would be a lot of new stuff put into the final make, right? Kayaba couldn't have added too many changes to this game from the first Beta stuff, right? I mean, that was only a couple months. Somebody would have noticed the changes or commented it somewhere. Right?

…But then, nobody noticed the 'trap everyone in a game' add-on. Or the head explosion feature put into the NerveGear.

Huh.

"You alright?"

My eyes left the panel. Jon's looking at me. Worried, definitely worried.

"I'm fine," I tell him, finger casually tapping the blue of the panel. I can figure out what it is later.

Oh! The metal-something's finished changing. Seriously, I don't know where my head's at today. How could I not notice a shift in weight-

…

…

…

…Of- _fucking_ -course…

/

 **TB – E**

/

 **CAVE TROLL'S BACKSCRATCHER +0**

 **Standard Mace / Two Hand**

 **Range:** Long

 **Type:** Smash

 **Attack:** 64-76

 **Durability:** 220

 **Weight:** 65

 **Requires:** 7

 **Equip** +3

 **Agility** +0

 **Strength** +8

 **Defense Breaker**

I don't know what else there is to say about this. I've groaned myself out of almost every conceivable curse word pattern or complaint I could think of.

Navigating our way back to town, through a very convenient shortcut of the troll's hallway, I'm pretty sure I've never been more tempted to smack someone's shit, randomly and without provocation, then I have right now. And wouldn't you know it? No goats the entire way back to vent on…

"All of that," oh, I still had a couple complaints still in me, "all of the rocks, the trap, the troll, the goats…and we get a fucking mace!"

"Hey, come on," Jon tried to sound optimistic, holding the mace, "it's not that bad. It's got good stats." He gave the thing a few practice swings. Admittedly, he actually looked very awkward carrying it. Like it weighed too much for him. Guess that's where the required seven Strength came in. "I mean, we are still selling it, right?"

The aforementioned weapon was an interesting one. While yes, it was metallic, I can't say for certain what kind of metal it was. Definitely not steel or iron, but instead a blackish color of sorts. Kind of like the rock of the cave. And while the handle was loosely wrapped with what looked like a light brown leather, the rest of the thing seemed crude and rough. Like no inch of creative effort was made to it; it was mean to be an all-around 'backscratcher' for a heavily-armored troll.

It was not meant to be pretty. Only pointed, sharp, and useful.

"Oh, you're damn right, we are," that was the most certain thing about our trek back to town. Unless we discovered a new player who favored heavy weapons, preferably blunt tools, and decided they were fluent in English and wanted to join a pair of American in the next two minutes, then I am thoroughly intent on selling this equivalency of heavy garbage to the nearest store we find. "But how much do you think we'll get for a 'backscratcher?'"

That was my biggest worry. Even in games where weapons were strong, if the name sucked, or was unique in some way, sometimes the game would only buy it off you for pitiful amounts.

"Is that the legendary sword used to vanquish the evil dragon god of our world? Bequeathed to thou by the lords and ladies of holiness and purity themselves? Magically enhanced with arcanic energies and several buffs through your own, exceptional skill in magic? Found on a particular quest to slay a dozen gray warlocks? Well gee-wiz! How's twenty gold sound?"

It's more common than I care to admit.

"Well, the stats look good," Jon shrugged. "Try to stay positive."

Yeah, the weapon _looks_ good, I guess. Wasn't like we found many weapons laying around to compare it to. Seemed like a rarity for monsters to drop. Either we buy standard equipment in stores or do quests. And since neither of us had much of a guess to who had what in the way of quests, or who could talk to anyone about said quests, we're effectively out-of-luck.

Okay, depressing conversation matter aside, we're back in town. And it's still packed.

Evidently, the traffic from the plains moved into the town. Lines of players, running out the doors and into the dirt roads, were easily fifty players long. From blacksmith to general to even the inn, everywhere seemed occupied. Everywhere seemed packed. And where players weren't, groupings or singular individuals talked or waited or passively went about their business. It might have been my imagination, but it looked as if the number of players had increased since the morning rush onto the Passona fields.

"Where do you wanna head?"

General or blacksmith? Both would buy the oversized paperweight. "Which line looks shorter?"

"Your guess is as good as mine."

Yeah, it probably was. If we wanted to buy something, that was a whole 'nother matter. We could walk into anywhere and, so long as we could pick up or touch the things we wanted, we could buy them no problem. But selling? All the shops have only one counter and the owners will only buy loot from players. One after another, that's just how it works.

The lines for general and blacksmith? Either they were for selling loot, enhancing their items to new heights, or some other function which required the owner's attention I wasn't aware of. Either way, selling the scratcher might take all day for a possible 30 Cor. But how else-

"Konnichiwa!"

-are we going to get rid of it? Beginnings, sure, would definitely have some places open to sell it at, but after everything else today, I just want to relax and-

"O-ohayō gozaimasu?"

-take a bath. I'm not sure if other players can smell us right now, but I can definitely _feel_ the goat stench coming off us. Seriously, Kayaba? You managed to have goat-stank pass onto other players? That's some serious detailing, I'll give you-

"Ano…"

"Ethan?" Jon's speaking up.

"Hmm, what?" I turn to look at him. He's stopped playing with his new toy and is pointing to-who's this? "Hello?"

New player. Older than me. College age. Dude. Basic leather piece and leggings over standard clothes. Three others behind him, staring at me. Or us, maybe.

"Konnichiwa!" Oh, that was him. "W-watashi no namae wa Jarvan desu. Yoroshiku."

The man bowed a little, as did the three behind him. The man began to speak some words again, which I won't even try to guess on the order or spelling of, even as I try to make heads or tails of what is being said to us.

"…kore wa ikura desu ka."

Oh, the absolute sincerity on their faces. He could have told me the meaning of life, right there and then, and I would not have had the briefest idea about anything he just gibberished. Jon's easy enough to tell on his understanding of whatever was just said; zilch. The most I can figure out about anything Japanese is 'konnichiwa,' because I'm not an absolute idiot, and 'domo arigato,' because that song is partially a bane to my taste in music.

"Wha?" It's about all I can say back to the player. Pretty sure I don't need to fake a 'whatchu talking about' look, either.

Clearly, we are having a failure to communicate here. "Kore wa ikura desu ka." The man speaks again, pointing to the mace.

The mace. Did he want to know where we got it? Maybe? Possibly? "We got this," I gestured to the weapon, "from a trap." I wasn't about to try the 'speaking slowly to help translate my words to them' thing. Never works in the movies, probably won't work here. And with how the four of them were looking at me, I'm taking a shot in the dark that they aren't exactly fluent in American. "We didn't buy it."

My words were doing to them what theirs was to us. "Meisu." Meisu? "Mei-su." He's still pointing. Meisu…mace? Is that Japanese for mace?

"Meisu?" I tried the word. Still got a weird look from the guy.

"Meisu." He said it again.

"Meisu?"

" _Mei-su_." I thought I got it right before

" _Meisu_." I point to the mace. The 'meisu.'

The man's face lit up. "Meisu." Did I get it right? He still looked at the mace.

Hmm. I looked to Jon. "Show him the stats," I'm working on a gamble.

Unlike the menu, Jon has it easier with opening up the stats on the weapon. Finger tap towards the middle of it brings up the necessary panel. Flick of the finger and the panel twists towards the group of four.

I was right. The four of them looked very interested as they read off the details. Can't even begin to say which words mean what, but they seemed intent on whatever they were looking at. The smaller member, the one in the back, seemed to be giving the longest look over the backscratcher.

He's got a standard mace on his back. A two-hander. I'm starting to connect some potential dots on what's potentially going on.

The four of them start to whisper amongst themselves. Not sure on the purpose, they've got to be aware I have about as much sense to the Japanese language as they seem to have on my English, but they keep up the charade of secretive whisperings even as we move closer slowly towards the general's door. Their menus were open, pressing buttons and icons and doing some kinds of actions I couldn't make out so quickly, but it was easy enough to tell that some urgency and quick finger work was being done.

A minute or two came and went – with Jon and I sharing more than a couple awkward looks between ourselves, them, and the attention we were garnering from this exchange – before the leader of this quartet went back to us. His menu was still out, tapping at buttons and pointedly looking at me.

I expected the panel which opened up in front of me.

 **Trade**

 **Jarvan's Offer**

 **3500 Cor**

 **Your Offer**

 **?**

Yep. I'm familiar with this.

Trading is as basic a function in MMORPGs as you can get. The ability to trade loot, equipment, items, even money. It can be used to exchange tools around or make a deal with an outside party. SAO's function for it was not so different in that fact, though it did require some manner of eye contact and focus towards the individual you were wanting to trade with.

Easy to see where this is headed. Guy – Jarvan (ha) – wants to exchange Cor for our backscratcher.

"San sengohyaku," by now, I don't think I can express enough how utterly painful language barriers are. "Īdesu ka."

I looked to Jon. Pretty sure he's figured out what's happening.

"Is that good?" He asks.

"No clue." Some games come with estimated values in the stat texts for weapons. SAO did not. This could be a very good deal or a terrible one. I just had to guess. "Pass?"

Jon shook his head. "Pass."

"Sorry," I said back, "we're keeping it."

As a sign that people get the universal sign of 'shaking your head,' the leader of the party swiped his fingers a bit over the open menu.

The trading panel chimed.

 **Trade**

 **Jarvan's Offer (Updated)**

 **4000 Cor**

Ah. An extra five hundred Cor. Trying to sweeten the deal.

An extra five hundred wasn't something to just blow off like it's nothing, but that definitely wasn't enough to make us reconsider-

 **Trade**

 **Jarvan's Offer (Updatedx2)**

 **4500 Cor**

…Huh. Damn, if they weren't looking at us with hope.

An extra thousand. Now, we could make that easy enough out on the higher plains with a couple days of work, but…that's still a lot of Cor we could do with now. And we're kind of stockpiling on the stuff for some major benefits back in Beginnings, so…

"Think this looks-"

New panel.

 **Trade**

 **KALABASARATA's Offer**

 **4650 Cor**

It popped up beside Jarvan's. Tried to jump back to Jon, then up came another trade panel.

Didn't have to wonder long whose it was; guy on the right, older man with a party of about four others behind him, moved up beside Jarvan and his team. Wasn't hard to see something was up. The guy looked towards the mace, eying up the parameters. He definitely seemed to see something he liked, and with that piece on his back, I'm guessing it's for a more personal interest then just observing a cool new find. Jarvan on the side couldn't have had a clearer 'the fuck are you doing' face.

Can't tell you what he said to the older guy, but it was definitely unfriendly. And neither did the reply from this 'Kala-whatever' fellow. Definitely getting some competition vibes from the two.

And the crowds of players noticed.

"Should we head off?"

Part of me says yes. But then, there's that part of me that is getting shits and giggles watching these two fight over Backscratcher. Two dudes, fighting over prices and probably who got here first and whatnot, over an item that no one else has (probably)? Yeah, that's fun. Makes me feel important, even if Jon's carrying it. They're trying to haggle with me, so I'll just say I'm the brains of this little auction and leave it at-

Wait.

 _Waaaiit_. Wait…one…second…

 _Yeah_.

Maybe?

Hmm. Possibly.

Middle of the street's clear. Bit of space between the lines. Definitely enough for-that could work.

But how would I-paper. There's paper here. Cheap. And pens are, too.

In the general.

"Wait here," I motion to Jon. "I'm gonna grab stuff. Be back quick."

I ignored the line and made for the general's front doors. If Jon had any words to argue with, I didn't hear them and he wasn't following me.

Which was good. I needed him to not move. Needed him to keep the interest of the players.

I wouldn't be long. Just a minute or two.

/

 **TB – E**

/

No one bothers the guy who wants to buy stuff. Cutting in line to sell? That's gonna get you tossed. But sneaking around to just peruse the shop's stuff? No one bats an eye.

Fifty rolls of paper. 300 Cor.

A pen. 24 Cor.

Picking up everything was easy. Now comes the tricky part.

"Wouldn't it just be easier," Jon's speaks up, "to just sell it to one of them?"

Explaining my plan was easy enough for him to get. Hell, even what I wanted him to do was easy enough. But he still kept giving me the 'bird in the hand is better than two in the bush' talk even as I work the pen out on the sheets of paper.

My two buyers are watching me. I need to keep their eye.

"Bro, _chill_ ," I think that was the third time I've said that in the last minute. "We're fine. Just do what I say, alright? We'll make bank."

Sign one finished. Sign two looks fine. Sign three…gotcha.

We can work with the rest when we needed.

I stood up with the paper. "Alright, know what you need to do?"

"Stand here and look pretty?"

Holy crap, _sass_ from Jon? This day's just full of surprises. "Exactly. Plus update the paper whenever I say so. Cool?" I held out the goods.

In return, I got Backscratcher and an eyeroll for my troubles. "Please don't do anything stupid."

"No promises."

Phase One: Setup – Complete.

Phase Two: Performance – Begin.

The lines are still long, moving into the two buildings. Even the inn's line seems to have expanded somewhat, but that was mostly just a random observation than a necessary thing to keep track of. But, who knows? Could be important. And, above all else, my two formally feuding customers were following me with a curious look as I made for the middle of the village' lines.

Jon's beside me. In position. He's ready.

Now for me. Just gotta dig deep, get a good breath going, and feel that overflowing amount of confidence you hide deep down inside just for moments like these and let it pour forth into levels of obnoxiousness.

Now, 3…2…1…

" _BACK_ _ **SCRATCHER!**_ _"_

I lift the mace high. Jon lifts his paper up with me. The words written in big, bold, black ink:

' **BACKSCRATCHER! BACKSCRATCHER! BACKSCRATCHER!'**

I paced around the center, waving the mace high. "Backscratcher! BACKSCRATCHER! Get your _Backscratcher_ here!"

Smile a bit, sound all excited overtop the lines of talk and whispering. Get the attention of the people.

And heads turn.

"Backscratcher over here! Cave Troll's Backscratcher! One of a kind mace, right here! Level seven Strength tool! Loot found on the westside of Passona! Discovered in a treasure chest, hidden in a dark cave! This is 'trap loot!' First of its kind! And for any blunt weapon users out there, this baby does over," Jon stopped waving the first piece of paper around, letting it fall to replace the second piece with stats, parameters, and info on its special ability, "SIXTY DAMAGE! And look at that! It has a special ability! _'Defense Breaker'_ sounds pretty sick to me!"

Gotta give auctioneers some credit. They know how to sell stuff like champs. No emotion felt under the limelight or nothing.

I probably got fifteen, twenty pairs of eyes on me now. Keep it cool, Ethan, keep it cool.

"First 'trap loot' I've ever seen! This thing was not easily taken! No siree! And was it worth? You bet your asses! Sadly for us though," shout a little louder, no one probably understands a word we're saying, but we're garnering a small bit of interest, even if it's just sideways viewing to pass the time for them to reach the sellers counter, "we are without the Skill to use this baby ourselves. We need someone with the grit, the talent, the cunning and the _COR_ to have this _bad boy_ for themselves! Which is why we look to YOU, _our fellow players_ , to see who has the bite to back up the bark and have this unique item for themselves!"

That was Jon's cue. He dropped the second piece.

' **2000 COR'**

"We will begin today's bidding for our one, single, unique item at a generous two-grand on Cor! You two," I point to the groups standing on the sides, "I know you had some interest! We're starting low! Interested in making an investment for your heavy users today?"

Don't think they understood a word I said. In fact, they didn't look too hot about being the center of attention. Jarvan shifted a little under everyone's looks and Kala looked my way, stroking his chin.

This really was the make-it or break-it moment. I needed a potential buyer now.

"Can I hear two-thousand for the Backscratcher! Backscratcher, right here!" My arms are getting tired. "These stats are legitimate! The cost is low! If you don't believe me, come up here and check! And don't think of this as a waste of money for all you low levelers out there! You'll reach those double digits in no time! Don't you wanna show off this spankin' cool thing to those up in Harutu? Those Kobold Shielders won't know what hit 'em! 'Defense Breaker' sounds _miiiighty_ tempting, doesn't-"

A player moved out from the general line. Older teen, couple years above me. Single-handed axe at his side.

He pointed to the mace.

"Tōkei?" He voiced.

I'm just working of a guess here. I tap the center of the mace and open up the stats. Quick swipe around so the panel points to him.

The new guy reads over the stuff. Reads it for a long while.

I can feel eyes on us. Did it get quiet around here or what?

"Doumo." The new guy says, opening his menu. Few flicks of the panels and icons later, and a new panel opens up in front of me.

 **Trade**

 **Sarashi Nightbloods's Offer**

 **2000 Cor**

God bless you, Sara.

"And we have an opening bid!" I shout to the crowd, with Jon already moving the pen around to a new sheet of paper, "can I get another bid? Can I get another bid? Twenty-two fifty? Twenty-two fifty, can I get that from someone?" Jon has the sign up with the new numbers.

Just need one more. Just one more and we have ourselves a bidding-

 **Trade**

 **KALABASARATA's Offer**

 **4650 Cor**

Whoa. Okay. Uh, that works.

"And we have a WHOPPING _four-thousand, six-hundred, and FIFTY COR_ from that gentleman over there!" Keep it dramatic, keep it dramatic.

The dude's practically looking like the king of the hill over there. If television has taught me anything, this is what people in bid wars call a 'buy out' or something like it. Try to spook the competition. Put everyone on edge and weary of trying to compete with a big spender.

This sometimes works.

"Do I hear four-seven-fifty? Four-seven-fifty, anyone? Four-seven-"

A chime to my right.

 **Trade**

 **Calubi's Offer**

 **4780 Cor**

Jon was still writing down my new number when he noticed the new panel.

"Four-THOUSAND! Seven-HUNDRED! And EIGHTY COR!" Scream it loud for emphasis. Sets a mood. People are starting to get interested. "To… _that guy!_ That guy in the purple! Top bidder here!"

Props to the new guy for taking a bow. All eyes on him, he looked positively delighted with the attention. I'll admit, bit envious on the confidence.

Phase Two: Performance – Complete.

Phase Three: Play up the cost – Begin.

"So we got forty-seven hundred and eighty! Forty-seven hundred and eighty! Do I hear five-grand! Five grand, anyone? Five-grand for Backscratcher! Defense breaking and high attack, for all you heavy-hitters out there! This is an investment, people! Think of the future enemies you may teabag a week from now…!"

/

 **TB – E**

/

Auctions don't last long. Just a simple point of fact. Auctioneers work to keep the bidding interest up and grab the attention of his audience. Fast words, faster tongue, keeps the whole pretense interesting and maintains momentum over the crowd. It's all a quick, high-paced vending, mixed in with maybe a smidge of entertainment during the whole thing for good measure, with the auctioneer moving on to the next piece for sale without a second thought back to what happened before. He, or she, never loses stride and never loses the crowd's interest.

Not sure if I worked as well as a pro, but I like to think I managed all of that with some success.

6488 Cor. A nice, even number. Do I wish we got more? No shit. But that's still a good amount of Cor to be had. I can live with it. Plus, that was fun. Fun is a serious plus.

And now? Now it's almost lunch. And we're sitting on a nice haul.

"What's the most expensive thing in the butcher's shop?"

"I think it's the C-grade Gold Salmon. Eight, nine-hundred Cor?"

"Oooh, that sounds good. Can you cook it up? Or would you need a Skill?"

"Might be tough, but I'll try it. Plus, I don't think not having the Skill will be a problem for long."

"No shit? You got level four?"

"Language."

"Troll?"

"Yep."

"Man, this day has just been ups and downs and weird all around."

"I know. Hey, by the way, nice work on the mace. They loved you back there."

"'Course they did. I'm a lovable guy. Winning personality, that's all me."

"Phht, smug turd."

"Arrogant prick."

"You know you're awesome, right?"

I love my brother.

"Fuck yeah, I do."

/

 **Numbers of players remaining in Sword Art Online:**

 **9,010**

 **Major Changes in Jon's Character:**

 **Earned enough experience to level up! Current Level: 4!**

 **Major Changes in Ethan's Character:**

 **Gained 'Searching' Skill!**

/

 **Author's note: Seriously, I didn't know where to end this.**

 **Couldn't just skip the troll. That would have been boring. And I didn't want to waste the chapter just fighting it. Fighting scenes are really boring when they're extensively long. Plus, it's only a level six. Those can be tricky, but not impossible to kill.**

 **And the bartering. Auctioning. I remember an old game called 'Runescape' where I bartered most of my hours after school away to give adamantine swords I made to those with the coin to pay for them. And the bartering was fantastic and fun. I learned to type on a keyboard like a champ from the experience. And even if I made somewhat less than what I could have made to sell it at a general store, I still benefited a player I didn't know and possibly made a friend to my friends list (the friends list before the Facebook friends list). Got quite a few messages asking for blacksmithing help. Love it when that happened.**

 **Also, with the Japanese: I tried, I really did, to make it as accurate as possible without Google Translate. I learned somethings today about the Japanese language trying to be as accurate and courteous to the people as possible.**

 **Also, the first barterer, Jarvan? Like I mentioned before, a common gaming thing to do is use names from popular somethings and name your character after it. I'm pretty sure I had a Guild Wars mage character named 'Sirius Black.'**

 **I was a weird kid.**

 **Anyway, hope you had at least a moderate bit of fun with this chapter and it didn't drag along too badly. If you did, tell me what you didn't like and I'll work to improve myself.**

 **I will get to more exciting things than 'auctioning weapons' in the next chapters. More emotional, fun stuff. Look forward to it.**

 **Next Update** **: 9/02/2017**


	18. The First Month V

Title: Two Brothers

Summary: We don't speak the language. We can't read the words. The menu is a troll. Half the time something wants to kill us and the other half is us trying to kill it. In short: Sword Art Online is the worst thing ever. OC Duo First-Person Narrative

 **Author's Note: So, I lost my job.**

 **Well, not so much 'lost' as I was 'let go.' Evidently, I'm an expensive guy to keep around. Plus, they just didn't have the work to sustain me. For those out there looking for a job, be wary of small firms. You might think they'll have enough work for you, but don't assume it absolutely. There are exceptions, so do be careful.**

 **Now, with that said, I have job searching to do.**

\

 **November 18, 2022**

\

"Ohayō gozaimasu!"

Ah, geez. Deep breath, Jon, deep breath…

Okay, where do I start?

Passona's starting to get a bit full. The rocky west sides are being picked by heavy weapon groups. The Kobold Scouts are being routed in the close-north plains. And the Dire Wolf packs are being torn to shreds on the south end. All by hundreds of eager players who seemed to have figured out the ways of making ends meet by massacring the local fauna in groups.

Sounds promising, right? Everyone working together. Everyone making money, using the general store to supply up, the blacksmith to improve gear, experience to level up, and showing general camaraderie in the night amongst bonfires and pitched tents.

"Ohayō!"

I wish everything was that simple.

A group's making their way down the hill. I try to ignore them, I really do. Ethan acknowledges them in his own way (looking like he hopes their heads will explode into a hundred messy pieces), then goes back to hacking the downed Kobold Scout Captain, level four, into a gorey mess.

" _Awrr…"_

We pretend to be more concerned with the kobold. That it's dying whimpers are too loud to hear the greetings. That we are stationed here and our 'American-ness' prevents our understanding of their 'hellos.' That we haven't guessed why they're here, why the leader of the party is smiling as politely and apologetically as he can even when he knows what he's doing isn't appreciated, or that we even care that a few of his party looked uncomfortable with easing into our zone of the plains.

This is our personal spawning spot. It's a good bit north of town, just below a few other groups working around, and Harutu, which we can see just off from the few trees. It's a relatively tricky place to work in. Hilled, full of rocks, and getting any kind of footing was tricky at best. We took this spot because we figured no one else would want it, which turned out to be very true. This area was hard to work with and just north enough that most smart players weren't too comfortable getting close to the infamous town.

We thought we'd have this place to ourselves till lunch. A full five hours.

We only got twenty-two minutes.

"O-ohay-"

"Piss off," my brother interrupts. "Shoo. Get. _Leave._ "

He doesn't appreciate their invasion. I try for a kinder approach. "Our spot," I gesture to the rough space between ourselves and the other hunting parties. " _Ours_. Leave, please."

We tried, we really did. But our words didn't seem to register with the main guy (or any of his party). He just kept smiling, confused for only a second, then speaks up while gesturing to the area.

Best guess? He's trying to explain, because we're only a pair of players, that our space is more than fine to work with for both of them. That there's plenty of loot to go around.

Just like the last two groups.

"Kobolds."

One of the newcomers, a boy in light leather and carrying large axe, points to the side. A nice group of kobolds pop up in a great shine of light. Six scouts, levels three and four, and a captain, level five. A decent catch which guaranteed at least a thousand Cor for us both and experience enough that might just push me above to the next level.

We'd dealt with small, three or four-man groups before. This was a welcomed appearance.

And now, the five are rushing toward them.

" _Hyaaugh!"_

" _Whooo!"_

" _Auugh!"_

"Stop screaming!"

Ethan rushes with them. I follow. The players meet the group easy enough, swinging their weapons around with Sword Skills and an appropriate level of aggression. They work well-enough, I guess. The shield guy was smart, moving to hold the Captain. Keeping him pinned and unable to buff his underlings while the four worked through the scouts. If I had to guess, I'd say they were probably leveled for the task. Maybe level threes and fours, though they could have easily been higher up then either of us. Judging equipment so early in the game isn't easy, but their movements seemed somewhat figured out.

Ethan doesn't care about their ability. Couldn't care less about them, really. He just starts on the kobold, going for its unarmored parts, ignoring the members around him-

"Agh!"

-and for his aggressive move, the two-handed axe of the player beside him cut into his arm.

A chip of health falls. I don't panic; the pixelated hit is shallow. More surprising (and irritating) then painful. It's the fourth time Ethan's taken damage from a player we've worked with on the plains. The fourth time someone got careless and decided their swing would have no repercussions to anyone else if they decided to put a little extra oomph into their attack.

First time someone hit Ethan, a hammer to the head, I about moved to kill the idiot. That feeling hasn't really gone away with any of the other times (I'm looking to the axe user, who doesn't even seem to notice he's damaged a player beside him). And I'm not lying, if I see one more player swing his weapon too-wide in the hope of getting a good hit on a monster but accidentally hitting either of us…

Well, I can't worry about that now.

"Son of a _fucker!_ "

Ethan takes it about as well as I expected. His scream, however, makes the others pause, giving the scouts a chance to take advantage, hacking forward and taking player health.

My sword just finishes glowing as it goes into one of the scout's head, popping it easy enough.

"Stay focused," I don't have to remind Ethan. He stands beside me, twisting a scout's stab wide, and moves to stab it in the chest. Not a critical, but serious health lost. It steps back, snarls with saliva and bile, and seems to wait for an opening to attack. "Don't worry about these guys. Just get-"

The player to my left dodges wide. A lunging kobold, aiming for him, falls onto me instead.

It's a common move for the scout-type monster. A grapple or tackle which hopes to take a player down and reap the benefits of the move. Now, this usually would only work on smaller players or those unprepared. A good move. But being a reasonably big guy, I mostly just brush them off. Even Ethan can deal with such a move, no problem.

But here? With the hill and the rocks and the hard footing?

My back hits the grass. The kobold falls on me. It twists and struggles as I try to grab its fur or arms – anything, really – to wrench it off. The rankness of its breath makes this whole experience worse than being wrestled by a low-level murdering dog-man should ever be. And it screams and wails as it tries to position its knife to my stomach. It's unsettling, to say the least. It's manufactured bloodlust. And knowing my brother is still trying to deal with a bunch of amateurs beside him while I have to work with this mess thrown on me by an incompetent, unknown player, and I just cannot stress enough just how compromising this all feels.

Still, I've already dealt with this once or twice.

Grab the weapon hand. Pull it back. Watch it try to scratch at me (very minor health loss) then bring the sword to its cranium and through the other side.

And just like that, no more kobold.

"Jon?" Ethan calls back to me, staying focused on the kobolds. Good man.

"Fine!" I yell. The kobolds are dying quick. Only benefit of the larger group. Lower levels, low armor, weak overall defense in exchange for quick speed and evasion. "We got 'em. We got 'em!"

That's the only benefit of these guys. Numbers. But otherwise? They're the same.

Same as the two groups before. No teamwork, no strategy, not even the semblance of togetherness with their others. They're working together as much as they're using their fellow player as a meat shield to keep the monster's focus on while they deal some damage beside them. And with about as much concern.

The shielder keeps the captain occupied like a champ and the regular scouts are being angled by the other four with standard effort I imagine lower levels would use. Honestly, we could have just stepped back, watched, and still reaped the rewards from this fight.

But that's not how we do things.

We move to help the others finish up. Screwballs and pains-in-the-butt though they are for coming around our neck of the woods, they're still players. Still people. And I'd just about shoot myself before I let anything even remotely happen to them.

\

 **TB – J**

\

Experience, Cor and items are usually given in full with smaller groups. With parties made of two, three players, the reward given in the normal circumstances wouldn't be divided by such a minuscule number. As far as Ethan can or I can figure, the game doesn't bother with cheapening out on rewarding the party appropriately. But get any more players than that, and you'll find your gains sorely lacking more than what you'd expect.

We weren't partied with those newcomers, but the game still figured we were working with them. So, by the mechanics of the world, we were only rewarded about a fifth of the usual prize we'd usually get from a group that size.

Neither of us are particularly pleased.

"Motherfuckers."

"Language."

"No, screw them! They stole our kills, they stole our Cor, that stole our spot! And those fuckers just- _arrrgh_!"

Ethan can be very articulate when he's irritated.

After the kobolds bit the dust, more spawned after. A smaller, lower level trio of scouts. A trio which had the entirety of the other team of players scampering towards them with as much eagerness as the first party of seven.

We didn't follow their example.

Those guys were doing what the Ethan-lingo called 'zerg rushing.' Basically, the guys would run, scream, and jump on any enemy they could without a lick of strategy or long-term planning for and hope they came out on top. A simple move; overwhelm someone with numbers, quick attacks and an overbearing bit of fierceness. It catches people by surprise, apparently, and I guess still-spawning monsters were little different in that regard. Most groups we've dealt – sorry, _worked_ with have followed a similar pattern of attack and it is as haphazard and messy as the word 'zerg' would suggest.

Still, if it works, why complain about it, right?

Well, here's the thing. When Ethan decided to hit every Blue Boar or Dire Wolf he could see on our first day on the fields, gathering up any stragglers or misbegotten players he could find, there still seemed to be something like a plan to the madness. A focus or system to our running around and butchering everything walking on four feet. It was chaotic, but I'd describe it as 'efficiently controlled chaos.'

No one got hurt by one another. No one swung wide or nearly took someone out because they were being clumsy. It was as surprisingly effectual.

But the guys just now? And the group before them? And the group before _them?_ They're terrible at this. _Awful._ And I mean, they were just some of the most inconsiderate people I've ever seen. We've taken more damage from wide swings, accidental Sword Skills, and stupid moves than I'm willing to admit.

It's so bad, we've left our hunting spots three times now just to avoid the hassle.

"Common player decency. That's all I ask. You see a couple guys standing around, separated from others, killing anything that pops up, maybe you think to yourself, 'hey! Maybe we shouldn't mess with them! Maybe we should give them some space! _Leave them be!_ ' Is that too much to ask for?"

My brother's venting. Usually, it's best to just let him do it, even if I don't agree.

But today? "Oh, _absolutely_ ," I tell him. "I mean, really? _Come on_. Fight like your serious. Like the person beside you matters. Just try and…" Some days you just gotta let out some steam.

I got stabbed in the stomach by a lunging sword player yesterday. Guy's level was lower than mine, the damage wasn't severe, and he at least looked ready to pee his pants when he saw how he screwed up so that was about as much of an apology as I could figure from the guy.

Still, try dealing with a Scout Captain for the first time only to find a sharp piece of metal get put into your stomach by someone you're working with. It's hard to be overly forgiving in that situation.

"Friendly fire is on, guys! Don't P.K. me, please! Hope that's not too much to ask for!" Ethan's getting us some attention from others.

Walking back to Passona is long and unfortunately dull. We pass over the hills, the other player groups killing monsters, and any other sort of hindrance we might've touched near. We don't join any fights or issues with players; Ethan wants to, but I just explain that playing the hypocrite game isn't us. 'Don't do onto others what has been done onto you,' or something like it. We didn't want to be bothered, more than likely others didn't want to be messed with either. Even my brother, stubborn turd he can be, sees the fact in that.

Anyway, now we're back in town, waiting in line for the blacksmith's. All part of a simple plan to relax; most players are out mining and grinding, so this place is scarce and quieter for the time. When breakfast is over, it's time to work. I mean, sure, there's people waiting to give the blacksmith a rundown on how or what they want to see improved in their weapons, but compared to most times of the day or week, this place is practically empty.

And, turns out, shopping can be oddly cathartic after a stressful day out on the plains.

"So, you gonna enhance today?" Ethan asks, pulling out his knife to look it over. I take it as his way of either finally cooling off or just changing the subject from cursing out the player population.

I pull my weapon a little from its cover. My 'Iron Sword,' plus zero. Fancy talk for saying I haven't made any leeway towards giving my first weapon any special upgrades or improvements. Just as basic and plain as the day I got stuck in this place.

But to answer Ethan's question: "Nah. Don't think so."

"'Kay. Then what do you think for me?" He asked, stroking his chin. "Another sharpness? Or maybe a durability? I was thinking of a quick-boost yesterday, but this thing almost weighs nothing already. Soooo, maybe I should just stay on the DPS focus…but armor chips a dagger's resilience like no one's business…"

He's enthusiastic, no question of that.

The blacksmithing system in the game is known as the 'Enhancement System.' Through the use of a blacksmith or personal Skill, a player can enhance the abilities or stats of any piece of armor or weapon they have.

Depending on the materials used in the Enhancement process, found through monster drops or other means of procuring items, a player may improve their weapon (for example) in several categories. Sharpness (increased damage), quickness (weight loss), accuracy (ranged weapon damage, speed, and chance for critical hit (haven't seen a ranged weapon yet, but I guess they exist)), heaviness (increase defense in certain armor categories and heavy weapon attack), and durability (weapons and armor can break if they aren't maintained (almost learned that they hard way in my first week)).

Ethan got himself a double on Wednesday. Two sharpens, just to see how it felt.

Scouts didn't stand a chance.

But for me? I haven't done anything to improve my sword. Partly because I felt I haven't needed to; aside from a nasty troll, most enemies aren't exactly putting up much snuff. There've been a few trying and pushing times, sure, but actually worth of serious concern? Nah. We don't run much, and nothing out on the plains has put us on edge since our first day.

Other reason? Even with my One-Handed Sword Skill going up, I still didn't feel so great with it.

It just wasn't a right fit. Too small for me, I guess. I wanted something bigger. Something I could get all of my fingers across. And I've tried axes, hammers, sword with shield, even Backscratcher.

Big lotta nothin'.

"Wanna improve your armor then?"

My armor. Boots and gloves, all heavy, all iron.

Thought about it. Considered boosting them, but I kinda wanted to wait a bit. Passona's blacksmith only sells light leather gear and faster stuff armaments like it. Fits the heavy animal activity around here. In a real game, with fun and stuff, I'd call this place a hunting ground. Animal killings were its primary area of expertise and economic activity.

And that's fine for lighter players. Me? I consider myself more of a bigger guy. The heavier stuff would be back in Beginnings, where the rest of the iron armor set was.

"Maybe later," I tell him. "Go on, you're up."

End of the line. Guy in front of us left with a happy durability-fixed shield.

"Howdy!" My brother always greets the NPCs this way. "One sharpness, please! And I swear, if you fuck up on the upgrades, try to start a little smalltalk, or tell me the princess is in another castle, I will stab you in the eyeball and burn this place to the ground!" He says this with a practically glowing smile.

I feel I should be upset by this. But with how the blacksmith just smiles, nods his head, opens up the 'Enhance Menu' for Ethan to put his materials and weapon in for improvement, not at all fazed by the death threat…I might have found it just a little funny…

Just a little.

\

 **TB – J**

\

We watch the players come strolling in on the north side. Great masses of them; some tired, some cheering, some casually walking with their menus out and perusing their finds, stats, any number of beneficial finds for their morning out on the fields (menus are the new cellphones). We've been waiting for the last few hours, passing by them as they strolled into town. Probably looked a bit weird, seeing us head out when we were, but it was our game plan (Ethan's, truthfully).

See, it's simple: players come in for lunch around the noon hour. Most of them leave the fields empty and open for monsters to respawn. Then, when lunch is done, they go back to reaping the place dry of any and all monsters. Optional rinse and repeat after dinner.

Now, we ate early. We weren't too starved or thirsty yet, but it's always good to get those parameters filled. Perhaps it is simply mechanics of the mental device strapped to our heads, but working with a full bar on 'Hunger' and 'Thirst' always makes the work out in the fields seem worthwhile and even enjoyable. Or at a minimum, we don't feel so tired. I haven't a clue on how this is possible, but food and water work just like the real world. I don't have enough reason to complain about it.

Now, we watched the players come in, and when we figured most were in town, we headed out ourselves. Sure, there were stragglers, those who sent us looks as we moved past them, and the few others who decided to carry their lunches out with them, but most others wanted a rest from the easily aggressed monster parties (we're the same way; I don't want a kobold jumping me when I'm eating my venison).

"Let's move it."

Doesn't have to tell me twice.

Going through the plains, cleared off of player activity, is actually kinda nice. Quiet, for the most part. Only noise we get are the monsters which move on us. Kobolds, boars, few wolves, a herd of Guardian Bucks and their rallied deer.

"Whatcha gonna do? Whatcha gonna do? Whatcha gonna do when I come for you, BAD BOYS."

And then there's Ethan. Smiling, laughing and singing as he skewers our dinner for the night. I've long since lost all concern about how he's doing when he's doing his bit. If he wants to sing, smile, rejoice in the absolute slaughter fest (his words, not mine) that he gets whenever we have a particularly steady stream of monster spawns…well, okay, I'm not completely without concern, but everybody has their way of coping with being stuck in a death game against their choice. Ethan's just happens be through song, smiles, and crushing his enemies via knife.

"Bada-bum-bum-bum…another one bites the dust. Bada-bum-bum-bum…another one bites the dust! And another one gone! And another one gone! Another one bites the dust, _yeah!_ "

He's actually killing things with the music. God help us all.

…Well, I'll just look to the positives. No one's around to judge him, the enemies are plentiful, the rewards nice (almost to that grand-spankin' new level), and we got ourselves a new space.

We play it chill, don't get into any fights on territory, and we'll always come back on the up-and-up.

Nothing to worry about.

\

 **TB – J**

\

I spoke too soon.

"Oi!"

Lunch was over, apparently. And players were returning.

"Ah, fuck all kinds of-"

Party of six came walking down the hill. Weapons out, casually stepping over the grass, impossible to miss determination to meet us.

One waves to us from the front. A supposed leader, I guess. A bit of an older player, maybe in college. Just younger than me. Average looking, soft skin, bit of stubble on his chin, nothing really exceptional about him. Even his gear is pretty normal, with few if any upgrades past his standard stuff. His party didn't look that different from him. Basic gear, all of them. Mostly sword users, a couple shield guys, a pair of spear wielders. Middling all around without a real plan or strategy to it.

Amateurs. Beginners, at least. Maybe not even to level four yet.

And they were coming all the way out here…

They look friendly, at least. Smiling and waving to us from behind their (I guess) leader. Don't really need to remind myself the last three groups weren't much different, though.

I remain cautiously observant.

The first guy, the supposed leader of the party, smiled and tried to make conversation. Following his gestures, he motions to the area and…that's all I can get. Not like he's making hand movements for monsters or anything else telling. Probably thinks, like everyone else, that we can make heads-or-tails of the language here.

My best guess at translating him: "Can we share the space with you?" Just like everyone else.

"No," Ethan says, stepping up. "No. This is our space. Go away." He has his knife in his hand. He points it to them, earning a few looks, then points it to the side. "Fuck off."

Lang…never mind.

The party looks to my brother. A little surprised at what I could only hope was a clear enough message. Or maybe they were looking to his knife and how he waved it about.

Their leader turns to the rest of them, passing words I couldn't have prayed to pick up on. They shrugged, as universal sign of 'not having a clue what's going on' as any, and he looked no better than they did.

He frowns, looking just as uncomfortable and uncertain about all of this as we are. Then, with a deep breath, he brought his hands together, and looked downright _pleadingly_ to us.

This is new.

"Kudasai!" The man begs. Actually begs. His tone is positively imploring. "Watashitachi wa anata o kinishinaidarou! _Kudasai!_ "

…Huh?

The man lowers his head, still speaking. Not to play the 'I know what he's saying' card, but I'm thinking he's trying to convince us to let him stay. Well, him and his friends, who look what I can only describe as expectant to whatever we have to say next.

See? Now I just feel like the villain.

"Fucking hell," Ethan's probably feeling the same. "Just…just…go bother someone who understands you!" He puts his hands through his hair, shaking it up. "What is it about us that makes these Asians think we understand them? Is 'American' the Japanese word for 'little bitch?'"

That's a good ques-and now they're bowing.

"Kudasai!"

"KUDASAI!"

Please? Is that please? Is that the Japanese' please? Where's Google Translate when you need-

Hold on, lights on the right. A lot of lights.

"Heads up!" I yell. "Kobolds!"

When a monster spawns, usually it's in decent numbers. Six, seven most. Any more that and it's usually spread out.

That right there's a good fifteen – no, _twenty_. Maybe more.

That's not the weirdest thing of it. There's more than one captain in the group. That's new. The distinct armor, taller build is pretty telling. And the way they're yelling – they're already using their party buffs. That's something they doesn't usually happen until we start fighting.

"Shit," Ethan whispers, "that's a horde."

Not sure if that's the name for it, but I won't complain about the title. It fits, no question on that. A freak spawning.

"Get ready."

"Don't have to tell me-"

"Gambatte!"

Somebody's yelling. The leader. He's smiling to us. His party is lined up, weapons out, hard looking, aimed and ready for the new enemies.

That's…new.

They weren't running. They weren't screaming. They weren't 'zerging.' Heck, the leader was _smiling_.

"Gambatte?" I was really just saying it to myself, trying the word out. Must have meant more to him, 'cause the leader's face lifted considerably and his smile was kinda contagious.

"Gambatte!"

"GAMBATTE!"

" _Warrugh!"_

The kobolds began their rush. Screaming, shouting, knives out and snarling some wicked dentures. Wasn't sure if they had a bite move, but I wouldn't be surprised if their teeth could do some damage. Their feet pressed against the grass, a small rumble with their steps, picking up dirt and stones in their stampede. Coupled with everything else, I'd have been a little worried about taking on these numbers, at those levels, with our current equipment and Skills.

But now? With these (please, God) not-terrible players? They outnumber us three to one. Those aren't odds I like to work with.

"Come on, ya furry bastards."

But Ethan's not backing down (no surprise). So, how could I?

Almost always, scouts will start off with a lunge. A cut, wide, aiming for stomach, chest, or neck. Then they back up, offer a few jabs from arm's length, maybe a slash, they'll evade when necessary, then start to press ahead to close in and up the damage output. This is hard enough to work again when a single scout goes on the offensive. Worse when three or four step up. In which case, stay loose. They're smaller than the average man, so keep the range on them. The scout will overstretch, offer an opening. Armor is weak, they aren't wearing helmets. Aim for the head, couple taps at most will do it.

Be smart with them. There's a pattern to them. Just have to find it.

But then, there are captains involved. They have what Ethan calls 'leadership buffs.' They can increase attack, speed, and evasion of nearby scouts. That means a definite caution is required.

In most cases, Ethan would deal with the captain. Break the buffs while I'd deal with the scouts. Tried and true practice, it works. Can't say whether there's a debuff that comes from breaking the chain of command's boosts, but the kobolds seem to lose most of their fighting edge.

'Cut off the head of the snake.'

But there are three captains. All standing back, shouting, snarling, waving their swords in the air. Protected from harm by a small army of aggressed scouts.

Keeping an eye on the scouts, captains, our health and making sure the players beside us aren't about to lob off my head isn't easy. Add in having to parry every attempt at goring me by nastily growling kobolds and it is understandably tricky to focus on anything too much for too long.

Oh, three are pressing me.

Simple solution. Can't break formation. 'Horizontal' glows against my sword. One wide swing, the kobolds edge back easily. Didn't expect to hit them with such an obvious move. Wanted to spread them out, press them back, make them cautious (as cautious as an AI can be).

It worked. Better than I thought it would, actually.

To my left, one of the kobold's shrieks. From its lower jaw through to its cranium, a spear jaggs through it. Nice bit of iron, right through, and I can see the yellow 'pinned' icon – a foot with what looked like a sword or spear run through it – next to its lowering health. I follow the shaft down to the newcomer beside me.

He yells something. Maybe to me, maybe to his partners. Didn't matter.

There was an opening. One more 'Horizontal' separated the kobold's torso from its legs. Critical, brought on by the pinned effect. A familiar disintegration effect follows.

One down.

I look back to the spear guy. Shield already up, his weapon aimed, he only offers me the barest of looks. As if to acknowledge that was a team effort but decided the danger was more important. My opinion of him goes up.

"Arigatou," I tell him. I'm not an idiot, I know what that means. One of the few words I've gathered since coming here. It's weird to use something like that legitimately to communicate with someone, but I didn't figure a nod would be enough.

Nonetheless, the spear guy smiled back.

"Mondai nai yo!"

I'll just take that as a positive.

One down, two to go. But two scouts, even buffed, are much easier to deal with then three. And Ethan's already working on his last (bless that dagger of his) on my right.

I see it now. Another opening. I move over and jab at his scout, earning me its snarl and its eye. Its focus.

"Captains!" I yell. "Go!"

Testament to the kid, he doesn't even send me a look. Just moves right, around his scout, rushing through the new opening. The closest captain saw him coming, trying to flank him, but Ethan's quick. Knife in the side, he brings the captain down. Might just be a trick of the mind, but it's oddly like how the scouts took down players.

He's got it handled. I focus on other things. Like this scout here; I give him a nice cut across the face.

He falls back. Good. A spear from the side follows through, edging itself into its face, right into the snout.

Credit to the guy. He's not bad.

Speaking of, the other team? Yeah, I can see it.

Their line is still there. Still held and focused on their kobolds. No one's breaking off or moving ahead. Can't see their health, but they don't have too many cuts. Their leader shouts, giving off words and jumping alongside another sword user. Spear guy on the far side looked pressed for a moment, catching the eye of four, only for them to step in and shave a little off the top of the assaulting kobold. That's consideration. The two are working well together. There's definitely an energy there, but these older players look far more capable then their lack of decent equipment would suggest.

Not like I'm one to talk. Minus feet and hands, basic gear all around.

Just sayin'.

As the spear guy bashes a kobold's face in with his shield, breaking it into tiny pieces of light as it tried for a tackle, I'll admit, I'm not hating them right now.

Kobold to the spear-shield guy's left. Lunge forward, knife up.

I'm bigger than the guy. Sword up, 'Horizontal' over him, I cut right over the jumping scout's unprotected hide. And I have to say, that might have been my most satisfying kill today.

"Arigatou!" The newcomer never broke stride, shield up and aiming toward the remaining kobolds.

"Monde, monai, monsu…welcome!" No one can judge me.

" _Waurooo…"_

I know that cry. One captain down.

" _Arruooo!"_

" _Arr-hhhhegh!"_

Two more to go.

But now, this is where things get better. The two captains are down. Distracted, really. Lost focus and not providing the buffs. The scouts crumble without them.

"Yoku yatta ne!"

"Ike! Ike! Ike!"

"Hahahahaah!"

The newcomers cried and cheered. The shift in the scouts' movements were clear. Their weapons glowed several shades of colors, humming quite loudly in the area. Where before, the kobolds appeared fierce and active, now it seemed easy to say that their agitation was somewhat dulled. Their spirit, as much as a computer-generated thing could show that sort of thing, was lost from their looks. They just stood there, shaken, as the party moved against them.

And me, of course. Wasn't about to let them do all the work.

\

 **TB – J**

\

After that, there's wasn't much else to say.

The scouts fell fast, like every other time we've taken out a captain. And then the remaining captains went with them (at which point, surrounding the pair from all sides, eight against two felt oddly sweet).

There was some rejoicing. Mostly by the newcomers. Can't say for certain, but I had a feeling these guys were close. Definitely coordinated enough to pass as somewhat competent.

It was a little odd, really. Neither of us could understand them, and they probably in the same boat, but we could tell they were passing us compliments. Nothing fancy, I think, but enough positives, shouts, a few pats on Ethan's back to tell they were a good bunch. And since Ethan didn't look ready to skin them alive, and mostly got away with a few colorful words mumbled under his breath, I'd say that was a relatively passable experience.

And then, more spawns.

Again, the newcomers lined up. Their leader spouting cheers of some kind, getting them revved. Mind you, a four captain-and-scout party isn't much to worry on, but the professionalism is appreciated.

Before they attacked, though, I looked to Ethan.

"Well?" I asked.

"What?" He sent back.

"Stay or leave?"

He didn't answer right away. He looked to the guys, watching them work around the kobolds, speaking to themselves. No crazy gestures, awkward swings or anything that would make me want to smack them for blatant acts of stupidity.

"Fuck it," Ethan gave in, pursing his lips and glaring at players and kobolds both. "Warning you now; they stab me once, I'm turning their six-pack into quartet. Leave the rest to remember and spread my name."

We joined in the slaughter.

After that, no more hordes. No more situations we didn't already expect. Just hours of grinding, mining, leveling up (for their side (to a number of cheers) and myself (small smile for me)), and…honestly? This was just a good bit of fun. New guys were a party, both technically by the game and with an attitude that was just entertaining. One I can say, with the sun going down and the players around heading back to Passona, was a whole lot better of an experience then I cared to even believe was possible after the last few days.

Even Ethan, though I bet he'd sooner break his leg off in my bum before admitting it, had a good once or twice.

We made our way back to Passona together. Then, we parted on good terms. Shook hands, gave smiles, exchanged names…actually, we never figured that last one out. And believe me, we tried.

Best we could get was that the guy was trying to say he was declining to give us his name. Or 'backlining?' Or maybe his name was 'Watashi?' I don't know, something in Japanese. Language barriers, always striking, always painfully obvious.

Ethan just took to calling him the 'Bandana Dude.'

Still, communication troubles aside, I'd call this a good day.

\

 **Numbers of players remaining in Sword Art Online:**

 **8,864**

 **Major Changes in Jon's Character:**

 **Earned enough experience to level up! Current Level: 6!**

 **Major Changes in Ethan's Character:**

 **Enhanced 'Steel Dagger' to +3! Improved damage output through sharpening!**

\

 **Author's Note: So, I imagine this chapter may be a bit polarizing.**

 **Not by the content, but by lack of happening.** **Yeah, it stinks. I just couldn't think of anything to write for as a last bit in Passona. But I just didn't feel right with the original piece I had planned without at least one more day in the middle town.**

 **Well, expect some emotion, positivity, camaraderie, a little danger, and then finally a very important meeting soon.**

 **And the Japanese language is still proving to me that I am very American. Someone without lingual ability beyond American English. Oh, what horribleness, it is. I apologize to any of you fluent fellas (or ladies) reading this, and if I obviously bastardized my structure or wording, please know I did try my best.**

 **I know, this story might feel slow. I will have faster-pacing in the chapters to come. But in the long run, I hope this will make for a nice read. And I will** _ **try**_ **to make something wonderful here.**

 **And lastly, I just wanted to thank EVERYONE** **here** **. Not just for their support, their favorites, their follows, and their reviews, but also for the overwhelming and general** **positivity** **I feel from everyone who just decides to take a moment from their day and think, 'hey, I know this is SAO, with OCs, but fuck it, I'll give it a shot.'**

 **That takes guts.**

 **Next Update:** **9/4/2017**

 **Quicker chapter as a bit of a sorry for anyone not ecstatic about this one (I am highly critical of my work).**


	19. The First Month VI

Title: Two Brothers

Summary: We don't speak the language. We can't read the words. The menu is a troll. Half the time something wants to kill us and the other half is us trying to kill it. In short: Sword Art Online is the worst thing ever. OC Duo First-Person Narrative

 **Author's Note: Trying for emotion this time. Hope I didn't go narmy or over the top with it.**

 **Also, I wanted this to be a short, sweet chapter…got about two-three thousand words longer then I hoped…**

 **That worldbuilding side of me took over. I do apologize.**

 **Anyway, here it is! Have fun!**

/

 **November 20, 2022**

/

In the Town of Beginnings, there's a large church which connects to the center courtyard of the game. It's so obvious that I can't imagine any player hasn't at least stared at it for a second or two since the game started. It's well-designed, no questioning that. And impressive enough by its size that I imagine a good bit of time went into its making.

And in the church, at the center, there was a room called the 'Chamber of Resurrection.' A large, wide room of marble floors, a single long bench, exits on three sides and natural lighting by the windows on the ceiling or torches at night. Its functionality was a simple one; back in the Beta, when a player died, they would be transported to this room for replay. No worse for wear and raring to jump back into the killing fold.

But now, it's been replaced.

Before, the Chamber was empty and open for any number of players to revive. Now, instead, there is a black board at the end of the hall. A block of slate, stretching from one side of the room to the other, with white marking engravements all across it. Thousands of words – names, as the obviously were – alphabetically placed in order, from the top left to the bottom right of it all.

And at the top of the names, the engraved white words, bolded and easily read from any place in the room, spelled at a new title to this space in the Church.

 _The Monument of Life_

"It's a grave," I mostly say it to myself, not really caring who heard me. I'm practically the only one here, aside from a guy and girl to the side. "It's a goddamn grave."

Farsarah - 2022年11月13日

Boopedi_Loopedi - 2022年11月18日

Coper - 2022年11月6日

First, those names are crossed-out. A line across them, horizontal, like someone took a knife and cut into the block. I can count about thirty just like that right from where I'm standing. Didn't even need to try hard.

After them, dates. Took me a second to figure out they were dates. Year, month, day. A couple were even for today.

"Fuck you, Kayaba," this place feels weirdly cold. Goosebumps on my skin (virtual goosebumps, whoopee). "Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you, fuck you, fuck you…"

If it isn't obvious already, I don't like this thing.

In the real world, my family and I took a trip back when everything was still hunky-dory between us. A week-long excursion to Washington D.C.; my Dad's idea of going to see the sites and getting a little history in our blood. Something he never got to do as a kid (Mom wanted the beach, but he won the argument in the end). And it was fine, mostly. Took some photos and stuff and the museums were fun. Everyone else seemed to like it well enough. But as a kid, all I wanted was something to keep my attention on and learning about a bust of a guy from two-hundred years ago was as boring as you can imagine. Rinse and repeat for a three-hundred-year-old painting, hundred-and-fifty-year-old statue, fifty-year-old paper signed, so on so forth.

I was dying from the monotony.

But there _was_ one thing I can remember I liked. A couple places I felt a little more together with the whole family on.

We took a tour to some memorials for dead soldiers on the third day. A whole area made to honor the engraved names printed along a long, black wall.

Thousands of names. All written there, dedicated to the guys and girls who put their lives on the line for the people around us and did so proudly. The ones who didn't make it back, knew they may not, and still went ahead with what they knew was the right thing to do.

At least, that's how Dad put it. That was kinda cool.

I won't bore anyone with the intense details of it all, but this monument reminds me of them. Names written across; an ode to those stuck in the game.

Except the context is a bit more extreme.

See, in the real world, those things were to honor the people who gave their life for the nation. Those who were already dead. Something I could appreciate and even respect back then. But this 'Monument of Life?' This thing with every player's name on it? Where I can see the 'Miller' and 'Wick' engravings after a minute of looking for them?

This whole thing is a great, big bag of dicks.

I can't even find the words how absolutely horrible this thing is. It's like we're already dead. All these name – dead men, dead women, dead kids. Thousands of dead people stuck here, as if Kayaba was saying 'Aincrad will be your grave, lol, here's my reminder of that and all that you'll leave behind.'

But that's not even the worst of it.

The names crossed out? Those are the people already dead. All that's left of them is a crossed-out name and a date. That's all. How twisted is that? That…I don't even know how to describe it. A massive middle finger to the face of everyone here doesn't even begin…it's like they're deader than dead–

Is my face red? I feel like my face is red.

Punching the thing doesn't help. All I get is the 'Immortal Object' tag popping up in a deep purple box. Mocking little shit – it _knew_ people would try to break it.

I don't know why this is bothering me so much. I mean, I'm me. Tell me this thing was here, I'd probably not care. But seeing it up close like this…it's just so…in your face about how you're still alive and others are dead or dying. Without much more than a passing date by your name.

The time of your death, me thinks (obviously).

Worst thing is, it wouldn't even be _my_ name. Can't even get the benefit of 'Ethan Miller.' Just Wick.

That's…I think I need to sit down. Just for a sec.

/

 **TB – E**

/

We came back to Beginnings to relax and resupply.

We wanted to get armor, fix the durability on our stuff, sleep for a night away from the noise that Passona's 'Horunka Rushers' seemed to cause insane ruckuses around, and mostly just aim for a change of scenery. It was a sorta spur of the moment decision, brought on with a side of persuasion by a trio deciding to run around the Passona player camping sites butt naked, but mostly of the spur sort.

The main road was fine. Still had a few random encounters, but nothing a minute or two didn't clear. And honestly, the point of the effort was lost on me. Whatever threat the pigs and the wolves had before was gone.

First wolf jumped me, I barely cut the thing and it popped. Thought it might have been a crit, so I tried it on a pig next.

Pop.

Love tap. That's all it took.

Wolf again.

Pop.

Two wolves.

Pop. Pop.

Jon didn't even have time to pull out his stuff. Easy exp with minimal effort. Kinda surprised; was it my level? Or the sharpness bonuses I had on my stuff? Either way, I liked what I was seeing; lower level monsters made into cannon fodder to feed my level. Just how I like it.

Walking into Beginnings, my general consensus of the place was…not terrible. At least, it wasn't as craptastic as before. Sure, some people are laying about here and there, but I imagine they're not withering away by their Hunger or Thirst stats, so that's a plus. Guess I shouldn't be surprised that not everyone's over the whole 'your life is mine to control and I'm trapping you in a video game of my making hahaha' shtick, but as long as no one's deciding to swan dive off of the edge of the world anymore, I'd say this place has shown about a thirty times improvement then it did before.

We hit the blacksmith's first. Wasn't the same one as before, but it worked and looked mostly the same. Small line waiting to get work done, but we weren't really worried about that yet. It was time to get outfitted in something more than the standard shirt and pants.

For me, I had the simplest option. See, downsides of being an Agility guy built on speed is that armor requiring Strength are a no-go. And very few armors with 'light' settings are available for users in the earlier floors.

They're the cheapest, but by that rule, the protection and defense isn't as high standard as the heavier classes. But speed and maneuverability reductions are minimal.

Now, the available sets included:

Hide. Essentially, animal skin. Easy to move in, offered fine cold protection, but it was next nothing in the way of actual protection. Very open, too. Wasn't sure if shown skin on players gave bonus damage if unprotected, but I wasn't about to try and find out. It's not even like it's real blacksmith armor; just thick skin tied together into clothes.

I passed that one easy. Maybe if I were desperate, but I got money to burn, so…

Leather. Animal skin, tanned and sturdy. Better protection than hide, good cold protection, and offers almost the same flexibility too. Bit heavier, but no strength requirements involved, so I can learn to live with it. Very few open spaces to show off some skin, though even those I could wear my shirt under it. Expensive, surprisingly, but it wasn't like we were short on Cor. Plus, if I'm allowed to sound a little gay, I looked damn good in leather.

Jon just rolled his eyes and said we put it down as a 'most likely.'

Last light armor in the shop…we couldn't afford it. Hell, putting our two purses together wouldn't have been enough to get the full set. We wouldn't be able to afford even the _gloves_. And we're not quite desperate enough for that just yet.

I'm talking about the 'Elven Armor.'

White-gold plated stuff. Durability through the roof, lighter than even the Hide Armor, and breathed like I couldn't believe. Wearing it, I felt empowered. The stuff moved like I wasn't even wearing it – hell, it felt like it was _helping_ me move around. It was one of the 'limited' items of the game. Kayaba did say that, unlike other games, when something rare was taken by another player, odds were no one else would be getting it. Made achieving something feel unique, in his words. I guess being able to afford this walking piece of gold was an example of that.

But like I said, I didn't have the Cor.

Even scrounging up the Cor to just buy the gloves for starters wasn't an option. Turns out, a nice little panel reading 'Must Purchase Entire Set' popped up with a nice six-digit number for us to ogle for minute. The way money works and costs in the game has always been a weird thing for me, but it still didn't take a genius to figure THAT was a hefty price tag.

So, we went with leather. And honestly? It felt _good_.

Solid breastplate, lined with black fur on the inside for comfort. Shoulder pads – sorry, _pauldrons_ , gotta be up on my armor lingo – which covered my upper arms in a double layer of thickness. The gloves were light pieces, not too invasive, but the pair of wrist guards – vambraces, right, armor has funny words to them – offered some additional defense for the lower arm. The lower part of myself…well, that was fine. The boots were good stuff. But the pants were non-existent. Had to keep my old pair on, because the only thing the leather piece had in the way armor that way south was a kilt. Essentially, a man's skirt. I am neither brave nor Scottish enough to wear that without some pants.

"Ah, I think you'd look rather cute."

Jon thought my leather-pantless situational plight was comical.

"Bite me."

I did not share that amusement.

Afterwards, completing Jon's armor set was a simple matter of purchase. Compared to mine, I guess you could say Iron Armor was a two-point-oh upgrade of leather. Which, I think, works with how it was actually like in history, but 'The Antiquity of Armor' was never a subject offered in high school to begin with.

Anyway, the breastplate fit tightly. It didn't bend, which I guess is the point of heavier armor, but slapping your hand against it gave a nice sound of resilience. Pauldrons on the shoulders, rugged and sharp things. A nice shirt of thick wool underneath both to, supposedly, prevent chafing (how much chafe you could feel in a virtual world was debatable, but as an aesthetic touch, it was nice). Like mine, there weren't any iron leggings for purchase; iron thigh braces on the side made up the most of the protection offered to the legs, with only a short loincloth over his crotch. I meant to make fun of that (oh, the Conan jokes that could be made) but Jon, damn him, felt much less uncomfortable with the idea of such an open area, deciding to just keep his pants over top and ignore me entirely.

And then finally, the finishing touch: an Iron Helm, covering the sides of his head in a simple refuge and designed look. With it on, covering his head and upper face aside from two holes for the eyes, I almost didn't recognize him.

But that didn't matter to me. My mind wandered to other things. Other comments, too.

"What?"

"A helmet? You're actually buying a helmet?"

I stared at him. He noticed. For some reason, the idea was funny in a game where you'd actually feel the helmet on you.

"Yeah, why? What's wrong with it? It gives defense ups, right?"

"Yep, but haven't you seen the movies? Real heroes don't wear helmets."

That was a joke.

Truthfully, in video games, wearing a helmet for extra protection is normal. No one questions having it. Doesn't hamper your character and just provides bonuses all around. But when you're actually the one wearing it, like in this game, people commented on the Beta how awkward it was. That it messed with their vision, made things hard to see through and could be tricky to maneuver in. Probably why most players weren't wearing helms out in Passona; the benefits just didn't measure up high enough for the decrease in vision to warrant the purchase.

Besides, wasn't like a headshot in this game was an instant death. Critical, sure, but I took an axe to the face from a player a few days ago (bastard was swinging it like it was going out of style) and I just felt more pissed off than hurt.

Essentially, I'm doing without a helmet. Waste of Cor, in my opinion.

But Jon's stubborn. "Good thing I don't fancy the idea of being anyone's hero, then, right?" He says, strapping it over his head. "Isn't that what we agreed on? Fight for ourselves? Others don't matter?"

Yeah, we did say that. And it was a load of horseshit. I know you, Jon. "Still, a helmet? They're just not cool. They, they make you look like a tool." Who even bikes in the real world with a helmet anymore?

"Know what else isn't cool? Head force trauma."

"I'd take head force trauma over looking like a total bitch any day."

"Honestly, that explains a lot."

Shit. "I…ugh, _point_."

Now, with iron ensemble complete and sword strapped to his side…yeah, he looked like a cosplayer. A fully decked out cosplayer with money to burn on his design, but a cosplayer nonetheless. Still, guess I didn't look that different from him, so…if you're going through hell, best go with a partner, right?

Real world would point and laugh at us, but the game world would revere us for not wanting to die.

Easy to guess which opinion I cared for right now.

/

 **TB – E**

/

Jon wanted to upgrade his armor. The line was longer then I cared for.

"I'll be back soon," I told him, "just gonna go look around."

"Don't go into the fields, alright?"

Yeah, no way in hell I'd leave this place without him. That would just cause all sorts of problems I didn't even want to think of.

I just wanted a minute to myself. I've been cooped up with my brother for the last two weeks. Two weeks with barely a few minutes to separate us – I swear, if there were actually a pissing or bowel movement function in-game, he'd still keep a close enough eye to tell me how many times to shake it or how to wipe properly. Can anyone blame me for wanting a few minutes to myself?

So I went scouting. Or perusing. Something with motion and viewing. Took in how things looked around. Might be the bright, sun-shiny day, but Beginnings wasn't looking so bad the further in I got. More traffic, more activity, the stalls were being looked over by players, conversations were being had, some laughs and shouts to go around. Definitely not the bottom side of the world it was before. Which, I guess, that's good. Even saw some kids running around, using their fully function swords and knives as makeshift weapons to fight in their own fantasized storylines.

Kids were still here. Still alive. That makes me a bit happier just thinking about it.

I came by the church by accident. Saw a few people come walking out of it, a dude crying and another trying to keep him upright, and I just got curious.

Walked in, found what I found, tried to break it a few times, and now…

Jon's here.

"Hey," he whispered. Guess even in a fake church, he's respectful. "You doin' alright?"

Not sure how he found me. Just glad he wasn't angry I walked off. Guess I lost track of time.

He stepped around the bench and looked me over, heavy steps echoing through the hall as his new armor echoed lightly with its individual pieces.

"I'm fine," I tell him. "Just…" I wave to the block of names.

Seemed like he just noticed the eyeful of the room. He turned and looked them over.

I let him do it. Let him take it in. He walked down the line, left to right, looking over every name, every crossed-out thing, every date shown.

He came back a couple minutes after making it down to the end and sat beside me.

Didn't say a word. Just sat there in the heavy armor, looking over the whole wall of names again. I gave it a look over, too. Just to feel it again.

The wall still sucked.

Then I felt Jon's hand on my shoulder. Even through the leather, I could feel the gloved fingers. The comfort he was trying to convey.

"You alright?"

Before, I would have shrugged him off. Or just repeated the 'I'm fine' line.

But now…and…I just, I let it out.

"No, I'm not," I admit. Is it possible to set a stone block on fire with my eyes? Is that a skill I could develop in the next two seconds? "This, I don't even know why this is bothering me so much. Man, it, it's just a wall," I try to laugh, make it seem funny. Didn't work. "A really fucked up wall. Why is it," I can feel my lip twitch, "why is it getting to me so much? It's stupid."

Hormones? Virtual hormones? Puberty is supposed to be the worst thing ever, so I've heard. But this? I don't do the open, expressive crap. Save that for the overemotional people of the world.

But this place? This whole fucking place? Fuck it. Fuck these crossed-out names and this fucking wall and this fucking game.

My mind wanders. Why would someone put this up? Why would Kayaba? Was it sinister? Was that the purpose? Demoralizing? Was that all Kayaba saw us as – _names_ on a black stone block, ready to be crossed out? Shit, that's irritating and depressing. It's not even my name. I chose to name myself off an action flick character. They'd see the name, and not know me. Did that mean he only saw us as the name we chose?

I never really thought to ask myself. To ask myself the question.

The question of just what kind of person Akihiko Kayaba was?

"It's alright," Jon's still whispering. "It's normal. Take a second. Let it out."

Well, if he expected me to bawl my eyes out, I'll leave him disappointed. No waterworks here, just the fury of an American teenager.

"Do you think it would be wrong to try and burn this place to the ground?" I ask, only half-joking.

"Burn down a church?" He asks back.

"Why not? It's virtual. Doubt God's walking around here."

"Probably best not to test that. Might even be bad karma to even think it."

"Isn't karma a Buddhist thing?" I ask, giving a smile, just for him to give me a light tap on the back of the head.

"Alright, smart aleck, no more pyromaniacal plans from you. Think positive."

He stood up, moving down the block a little to just about mid.

He looked it over for a sec, then pointed.

"I'm still here," he said. I could just read the name 'Miller' from here. He went further down the block, paused, and pointed to something almost to the end. "And you're here. We're not dead. Let's keep it that way, 'kay?"

Not exactly a rousing motivation speech, but he's trying.

"Don't want to get a cut across your name?" I ask.

"Nah. I like Miller just the way it is. You?"

I think about it. "Yeah. I can work with Wick. I like it how it is."

We are so clever in our ways of saying 'I'd really like us not to die.'

Jon moves back to me and offers a hand. Don't need it, but I take it anyone, pulling me off the cold bench.

"Want to take the day off?" He asks, but I figure he knows me well enough to know the answer.

"Fuck no. Not about to let this bother me." Sucks ass, but like most everything I'm not gonna let it bring me down. Fuck Kayaba, I will shank you with my sharpeness-enhanced knife. So, swears 'Wick.'

"Language. Especially in a church, you know better!" He tries to sound like a parent. But I don't think either of us has the energy for reprimands or corrections now. "What do you wanna do now?"

What did I want? Oh, I had plans. "Eat, mostly. Find whatever passes for fun here. Then find the most expensive inn to pass out in."

"I like the sound of that." I knew he would.

"And tomorrow," I went on, "I was thinking we'd check out the woods. See what's up with them."

The woods. Did the room just colder or was that just me?

Obviously, my idea made a lightbulb in my brother's head light up. He was quiet for a second. "If you're sure…"

He was nervous. Maybe not for himself, but the forests past the plains and off the main road aren't exactly friendly. I think we've seen that well enough on our first day with a number of idiots who thought they were hot shit. Never saw them again.

"We'll be careful," I told him, maybe with a little irritation in my voice (I'm a teen, I don't need to be babied all the time). "We'll hit the highway if stuff goes wrong. Run like we did with the deer, how's that sound?"

Sounds like a pussy plan, but when in doubt. Besides, remembering the Guardian Buck situation was never a fun conversation matter, but you gotta remember the bad to get better at being good (or something like that – I'm not a wise old man, I can't spout wisdom for shit).

Still, Jon didn't look to like that plan any more than I did. But, unless he was interested in hitting Harutu, which I was still cautious of even with the new duds, or trekking all the way to Tolbana, I'd say the mysteries of the woods would have to be our best option.

"Alright," Jon finally gave in, though he didn't look to happy with it. "No stupid, you got me? We do-"

"This smart. Yeah, I know, stop being a buzzkill."

Miracles of miracles, my sass actually got him to smile. And earn me a punch in the arm.

"Turd."

I'd say that I doubt the forest could hold anything a couple of level sixes couldn't handle, but I'm not dumb enough to tempt fate. That's a death-flag-raising-worthy attitude. Go in half-cocked, we'd get fucked.

I plan to eat good food, find some fun, and sleep in a nice bed tonight.

We go trekking the woods tomorrow.

/

 **Numbers of players remaining in Sword Art Online:**

 **8,787**

 **Major Changes in Jon's Character:**

 **Completed 'Iron Armor Ensemble'! Increased Defense!**

 **Major Changes in Ethan's Character:**

 **Completed 'Leather Armor Ensemble'! Increased Defense!**

/

 **Author's Note: Lengthy chapter planned next. Need time to prepare and get it ready. We're off to the terrible woods!**

 **Plus, I still need time to find a new job.**

 **As always, I appreciate any critiques or thoughts on anything which comes to mind and I hope your holiday is going well.**

 **Next Update** **: 9/18/2017**


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